


Havoc

by secondstar



Series: Her Blood on His Bones [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Animal Death, BAMF Stiles, Barebacking, Bathing/Washing, Body Worship, Branding, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cliffhangers, Collars, Daemons, Dark Magic, Depression, Dreamwalking, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Felching, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rimming, Soul Bond, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondstar/pseuds/secondstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes dreams are just dreams. Sometimes they are the warnings of dangers to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the sequel to _[Tremble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/599474?view_full_work=true) _. I highly suggest reading that before embarking on this journey!__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _if you feel as though a tag is missing please do not hesitate to let me know!__  
>  I made a fanmix for this fic, it can be found [here ](http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Havoc/85039245) in case anyone is interested!
> 
> date: please do not REPOST this fic anywhere else without my consent. Please do not put it on GoodReads that is a site for PUBLISHED works, not fic.

**Prologue**

Sleep was elusive, always within reach but forever out of grasp. Wind whispered, howled throughout the nights, calling out to Stiles. Every night it was the same. He drifted off into a light slumber with his arms around Adara, head buried against Derek’s neck until the wind picked up, his mother’s voice riding the back of the breeze. At first he ignored it, laying in bed with his fingers digging into Adara’s fur as he pet her, his eyes wide as he listened until dawn. 

After a while, it was too much to ignore. He would pull Adara out of bed, carrying her in his arms as she slept, then walk outside. He passed by the other cabins surrounding his and Derek’s, passing by the well, the barn, and heading into the nearby meadow. There he sat, staring up at the sky with the wind howling around him. 

His mother’s words whipped past him as he lay in the grass, counting the stars. 

_“Do not forget me.”_

“I haven’t,” Stiles whispered night after night, looking down at his bare chest, his markings shown plain as day by the moon’s light. 

_“You were so brave,”_ her voice rang out, an echo of Moira’s last words to him. Stiles would shut his eyes, then, and hold back a shudder as he thought about his life, of everything he had gone through. Being taken by the Magisterium, tortured, used as the Alethiometer took its toll on him. Even though their village, the one they built for themselves, was warded to keep enemies from crossing the gated line, he was unable to switch off. He couldn’t put his mind at ease. 

He'd been running for as long as he could remember. He and his father never stayed put for long, and building a life for themselves, a permanent place, had always seemed out of the realm of possibilities. There was no more running, no more worry about being chased. Stiles knew on the surface that he wasn’t in danger, but that didn’t mean his subconscious understood. 

Everything was different at night. During the day he had the sun, he had his father within shouting distance, he had Derek’s gaze upon him, Adara’s reassurance. At night, though, he had none of those things. He was alone with his thoughts, with his memories. 

At night all he could do was follow his mother’s voice carried by the wind with messages of vigilance and unease, a warning sign of things to come that Stiles was finding hard to ignore as days turned into weeks. 

It wasn’t until one day, two years after they had settled down in their village, that he realized he still had reason to stay focused, keep a mindful eye. That the Magisterium wasn’t the only evil out there, that not everything was after him. 

Sometimes, evil came for those he loved instead. And that was something that Stiles would never allow. Not when they had fought so hard, went through so much. He wasn’t about to let that get taken from him. 

**Chapter One**

The village, which Lydia coined ‘Evenstar’, because one used said star to guide them home, grew in two short years since its first construction. What started off as three cabins and a few small buildings turned into something more but felt just the same as when it began. A well was the center of the village, made of stone with a roof and a hand-made crank shaft that made it easy to pull water up by the bucketful. Cabins were mixed in with small shops and buildings; an Apothecary, a chicken coop, an outdoor hearth with an awning to keep out inclement weather when baking still needed doing; the barn which housed cows and horses, a gated area next to the inn where goats were kept, the inn itself, along with a supply building that housed candles and soaps as well as spare linens and cloth that was bought at market from neighboring towns. 

Evenstar gained a blacksmith, a man named Danny who arrived one day, along with Jackson, a man of wealth who caught Lydia’s eye at market. Apparently they had been courting for some time and had even talked to Stiles’ father before bringing two strangers to their close knit village. Stiles found Danny amiable, and the horses were grateful for the horseshoes he provided them. Jackson brought with him money, and money meant more. It meant more horses, pigs, and cows. It meant a two-story house for him and Lydia, two new carts, and enough grain to last three winters. Stiles thought Jackson a show off, but he wasn’t going to begrudge someone just because they had too much of something, not when Jackson had no problem giving what he had for their community as a whole. 

The inn only housed his father and Melissa McCall, since Laura opted to live on her own in a small one room cabin by the hearth, overlooking the nearby lake. Laura used the hearth not only for baking breads and cakes but also for pottery that she then sold at market. She and Allison then bought fine threads that they wove into tapestries or sometimes ribbons that they braided into their hair. Lydia was best at braiding intricate patterns into her hair, always to Stiles’ amazement. Laura also liked dyes. She liked making them herself, wandering off into the woods picking berries and things in order to dye cloth into vibrant colors. She always put up clothes lines full of drying ribbons of purples and blues. Stiles had a ribbon tied around his wrist in the brightest, deepest blue he had ever seen. Laura had put it there herself, with a warm smile as she kissed Stiles’ cheek. It covered scars from shackles, forever etched into his skin, reminders of his capture by the Magisterium. 

Not all his scars and markings reminded him of torture and pain, though. The marking on the palm of his hand, the intricate knot that matched perfectly with the one on Derek’s, let him know that he wasn’t alone. He had Derek, he was bonded to Derek. He and Adara were forever linked to him, the three of them together. Derek who spent his days with the horses, in the fields with Boyd. Derek who hated market, was the same Derek that risked everything for him, protected him, and saved him. 

Once a week Stiles went into the woods with Allison, along with her owl daemon named Adrastos, Derek, and Boyd to hunt for game. Allison taught him how to shoot with a bow and arrow as the two wolves tracked down deer and fowl. Stiles’ aim wasn’t always on target, but he was slowly getting better. He found the concentration necessary hard to grasp; he had a difficult time forgetting all other thoughts and breathing steadily before he shot, always shooting before taking proper aim. 

 

Stiles sat barefoot, without his shirt on and with a leg pulled up close to his chest, his chin resting on it as his other foot pushed back and forth so that the rocking chair he was in swayed ever so slightly as he looked out across the quiet village. It was just after dawn in late spring, dew drops covering the grass surrounding the cabin as the sun slowly rose after another night without sleep for Stiles. Adara was tucked in bed with Derek, the tug of her distance barely even registering with Stiles. His mind was fuzzy, his eyelids heavy, but sleep eluded him still. With sleep came remembering, came nightmares. He’d rather walk the meadows in the moonlight following the sound of his mother’s words of warnings than to revisit the things that haunted his mind once his eyes closed. 

Stiles didn’t flinch when he heard the sound of creaking wood, of footsteps approaching him. He had left the front door ajar, in case Adara woke up searching for him. It didn’t surprise Stiles when he felt Derek’s hand on his shoulder, his thumb running up and down his shoulder. 

“That is three days I have woken up without you in my bed,” Derek teased, his voice soft. Stiles smiled against his knee, his lips rubbing against it before turning his head and looking up at Derek. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all he said in an answer. His eyes drifted back towards the meadow, his mind wandered back to his mother, to the sound of his own screams, the pain of being an Alethiometer consuming his thoughts. Stiles closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the ghost pains. He let out a low moan as Derek’s hand moved from his shoulder to his hair, his fingers kneading against his scalp. Stiles’ head leaned towards Derek, loving the feel of the head massage. 

“Come back to bed,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear. “We have time before the hunt.” 

“Mmm,” Stiles hummed, his eyes remaining closed as Derek’s hands left him. 

By the time Stiles opened his eyes again, Derek was gone. He didn’t know how long he drifted off for before he made his way inside, closing the front door behind him and crawled into their bed, burrowing his head in his pillow, wrapping his arms around Derek’s sleeping form. Adara was curled up in Derek’s arms as he lay with his back to Stiles. Stiles tucked his head in against Derek’s back, shutting his eyes tight as he intertwined his legs with Derek’s, rubbing his cool feet against Derek’s bare legs. Derek groaned, shifting ever so slightly at Stiles’ touch. 

“Your feet are cold,” Derek grumbled as he inhaled deeply. Stiles heard Adara whine out a yawn as his hand reached for her, running his fingers through her fur. 

“Went for a walk in the meadow,” Stiles conceded, his lips pressed against Derek’s shoulder blade lazily, his body relaxed finally. Derek shifted then, turning towards Stiles. Stiles hung limp, letting Derek pull him close, his stubble brushing against Stiles’ cheek as he kissed him. 

“Talk to me, Stiles,” Derek urged him. Stiles, barely awake now, furrowed his brow as his eyes remained closed. 

“I followed the wind,” Stiles mumbled as Derek cupped his face with his hands. 

“Let him sleep,” Stiles heard Adara tell Derek before he let sleep take him at last. 

Stiles was aware. He knew immediately that he was not where he was supposed to be, despite feeling at the same time that everything was how it should be. He was in the meadow, with Adara at his feet and Derek as the wolf by his side, his fingers dug deep in the wolf’s fur, holding tight. Standing before him was a woman in black, her face hidden by a shroud. Stiles’ grip tightened as he held onto Derek. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked at the woman. The silence surrounding them was deafening and encompassing. Stiles felt a tug deep in his gut, a pull. He took a step towards the woman as she reached a hand outwards, her palm upturned. 

“Alethiometer.” 

The voice was his mother’s, though Stiles knew deep down that she was not Moira, was not his mother, his flesh and blood. 

“Who are you?” Stiles inquired, his voice steady and calm. Stiles swore that if her face wasn’t hidden from him, that she would be smirking at him. Instead of an answer, the wind picked up around him. The grass moved silently, eerily absent of the noises the wind normally brought about. Stiles looked down at Adara, who lay close to the ground, as if ready to pounce. Derek snarled to his other side, baring his teeth for the woman in black. 

She ignored Stiles’ question, her gaze falling to Derek. 

“Your wolf will not always be by your side.” Stiles mimicked Derek, snarling just as the wolf beside him was as he lifted the corner of his mouth with his eyes narrowed. 

“Yes, he will be.” 

With that, she laughed, her hand that was extended clenched into a fist abruptly and Stiles felt a painful tug deep within him as he dropped to his knees before her. Stiles grasped at his shirt over his heart, his hand burning where Derek’s bond to him shown on his skin. Beside him, Derek disappeared, turning into black smoke.

Stiles woke up covered in sweat, panting. 

He was alone with the covers pushed down towards the foot of the bed. He pushed himself up by his elbows as he got his bearings. The sun was up and the curtains that Laura had made them were pulled open, lighting the small room. The door was shut, as if Derek wanted Stiles to sleep as long as he could. Stiles got up, walking over to the water basin to wash the sweat off of his face and neck before Derek saw him; he didn’t want to worry Derek. 

Stiles pulled on a clean linen shirt, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows before he replaced his loose sleep pants with his pair of leather, front-laced pants that hugged his hips and thighs tightly. His boots were on his side of the bed on the floor. Sitting down to put them on, Stiles heard voices coming from the other side of the door. 

Someone was talking to Derek. Stiles walked carefully towards the door, putting his ear up to it as he held his breath so that he could hear better. 

“Are you sure he will be up to going?” It was Scott, his voice full of concern. Stiles’ brow furrowed as he realized that Scott was asking about him, about the hunt. 

“He won’t say no, he will want to go,” Derek responded, his voice obviously hushed. 

“He hasn’t been himself.” Stiles heard Derek sigh at Scott’s admission, pointing out the elephant in the room, what Stiles had hoped no one had noticed. “He won’t talk to me, he just wanders off-”

“Stiles is fine,” Derek said a little too quickly. Stiles couldn’t help but smile, albeit sadly. “He will tell us if something needs to be said.” Stiles felt the tugging in his gut at Derek’s trust in him, the same pull that the woman in black brought about. 

It was then that Stiles remembered his dream about Derek disappearing. Stiles shut his eyes as he bit his lip, concentrated on breathing evenly as he grabbed the doorknob, twisting it before he walked out of the bedroom. Both Derek and Scott looked over at him with guilty faces while Adara, who had been at Derek’s feet, trotted over to him then pawed at his pants to be lifted into his arms. Stiles picked her up immediately, nuzzling her, his fingers digging into her fur for comfort as he walked towards Derek. 

“You didn’t sleep long,” Derek pointed out casually. Stiles shrugged as he leaned against the table next to Derek. Being close to him helped rid Stiles of the feeling the nightmare left him with, seeing Derek calmed his rapidly beating heart. 

“Didn’t want to miss the hunt.” Scott looked to Derek at Stiles’ words, he didn’t miss the exchange. “It isn’t too late, is it?”

“The dew has barely lifted from the grass,” Derek uttered as a hand lifted, his fingers raking through Stiles’ growing hair, tousling it. “We wouldn’t leave without you.” 

“I know you wouldn’t,” Stiles acknowledged with a sigh as he put Adara down. “Is there time to eat at the inn?” He asked. Derek smiled at him, nodding his head. 

“I think that’s where Allison is, actually,” Scott confided. “Helping my mom and Laura with dough for tonight.” 

“Right,” Stiles said with a curt nod. He had forgotten that they had a big dinner planned with everyone in the village that night, with a bonfire. They all rarely ate together, and bringing back deer, they would cook one fresh over a spit. “We should get going soon, then, to be back in time.”

“There is plenty of time,” Derek said as he walked towards the door, Adara right on his feet, bounding around him. 

“I want eggs,” Adara exclaimed as she pounced towards the door handle, wanting out. “And dough, before they cook it into bread.” Derek chuckled, lifting an eyebrow as he opened the door. 

“Not too much, you’ll get sick.” 

Adara didn’t listen as she rushed outside, running in a circle as she waited for Stiles to join her. Stiles walked over to where he kept his bow and quiver of arrows, grabbing them before he and Scott joined Derek and Adara in the walk over to the inn. 

“Are you coming today?” Stiles asked him as he watched Adara do her usual run ahead only to circle back around them to do it again. Derek walked ahead of them, talking at Adara every time she passed by him. Stiles closed his eyes, trying to push the woman in black’s words from his mind. ’Your wolf will not always be by your side.’ 

“No, I am staying behind. Danny promised to teach me more metalwork.” 

“I have no patience for that,” Stiles joked. “But I am sure you will make great things.” 

“I’m starting with arrowheads,” Scott pouted. “I have made a few, actually. Allison is going to try them out today.” 

“I want some, from your next batch.” 

Scott beamed, nodding his head. 

Breakfast consisted of eggs, oatmeal with fresh cherries, bread Laura had baked the previous day, along with raspberry preserves that Melissa had left over from winter. Stiles had oatmeal along with a few slices of bread, which he loved. Laura put different herbs in her breads, and she had made Stiles’ favorite the day before. He liked his with butter, after putting it over a fire for a little while, toasting it slightly. 

Derek sat next to Stiles on one of the benches that surrounded the massive table. The inn was built so that they could all gather during the winter months without eating out under an awning they had built for the warmer times of the year. Stiles’ father sat at the end of the table, near to where Stiles usually sat. Derek’s thigh was touching Stiles’, Stiles knowing that Derek and he both liked the casual contact. Derek was deep in conversation with Danny, who joined them. Derek was midway through an apple that looked so juicy that Stiles reached for Derek’s wrist, tugging it close to him. Derek let Stiles take a bite from it without a word. 

Stiles hummed, letting a smile escape his lips as he chewed it happily. Derek returned the smile, brushing his lips across Stiles’ temple before returning to his conversation about firewood for that night’s fire. 

Allison, Stiles, Derek, and Boyd were the only ones to go on the hunt. They hiked into the woods in silence, Derek and Boyd flanking Allison and Stiles as wolves, on the lookout for prey. Stiles let his mind wander as he followed behind Allison, concentrating on the swing of her braid as she walked. 

His mother’s voice that rode on the back of the wind, the voice he heard while awake, couldn’t be the same as the woman in his dream. His mother warned him of trouble, whereas the woman in black only used his mother’s voice to gain his trust. He tried to rationalize the faceless woman, but he couldn’t. He knew, despite it being a dream, that it had not been the first time he had laid eyes on her. He wondered, briefly, if that wasn’t the first time she had been in his dreams. 

“Stiles?” Allison asked, bringing him out of his reverie. Stiles noticed that they had stopped walking, and that Allison was looking at him with concern. “Did you hear what I said?” 

“What?” Stiles asked, shaking his head to make thoughts of his nightmare disappear. “I’m sorry, Allison. What did you say?” Allison gave him a tight-lipped smile. Her cheeks were red, as if embarrassed. Stiles was confused. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Stiles’ jaw dropped, then gulped as if he was a fish out of water. 

“Holy shit, really?” Stiles asked, breaking out into a grin as he pulled Allison in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her. “That is amazing!” Allison laughed into Stiles’ neck as she nodded her head. “I assume Scott knows.”

“Not yet, actually.” 

“I’m not first to know-” Stiles started, but Allison shook her head. 

“Melissa knows.”

That made sense, considering Melissa was the closest thing they had to a physician, next to Lydia who dealt with medicines. 

“I wanted to tell you because I know you’ll keep it to yourself. I’m not ready to tell Scott yet, Melissa and I want to wait a little longer in case-”

“In case something happens?” Allison nodded her head. “Nothing will happen to that baby, Allison,” Stiles told her, meaning it. Their conversation quieted as they started walking once more, looking for deer. 

Stiles felt a swell of pride for Scott and Allison, knowing that there would be growth in their small village. He also felt it for himself, that Allison trusted him more than anyone else, even Lydia, who had become close with Allison since they founded their settlement. 

Besides Scott and Derek, Stiles felt closest to Erica. Sometimes late at night he found himself on her porch, where she would sit in a rocking chair with him in silence. It was like she knew, more than the others, how everything had affected him. How every time he looked down at his body all he saw was the stab wound, the scars around his wrists, and the markings of the Alethiometer, the very reason he had been hunted and captured. 

Allison’s movement ripped Stiles from his own thoughts once more as she let loose an arrow, then knocked back another one, taking aim. Stiles wasn’t paying attention, his mind not in it. He might as well just be on a hike, for all that he cared. Usually he was more attuned to his surroundings. He felt off, unlike himself as he too readied an arrow and shut one eye as he took aim towards the direction that Allison had shot. 

Movement caught Stiles’ eye, and he released the arrow. A thud was heard, snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves as they ran towards their kill. Allison got one, right in the eye. She bent over, observing the doe. 

Stiles’, though, made him ache. It was young, a fawn. Stiles got it in the leg; it was still alive. A pang of regret hit him hard as he dropped to his knees. His knife, strapped to his thigh, shown in the sunlight, its glint reminding him that he had a job to finish. Instead, he pressed his hand against its head, petting it as it whined. Adara was by Stiles side, her nose nudging the fawn. 

“What are you going to do?” Adara asked him. Stiles shrugged as he looked up just in time to see Derek and Boyd’s wolf forms come out from the brush. Stiles’ eyes didn’t leave Derek’s, as if pleading with him about he didn’t even know what. Stiles’ throat was dry as he breathed. His breath hitched as the fawn licked his palm. Stiles recoiled. 

“I can’t,” was all he said as Derek approached, sitting on his haunches in front of the baby deer, his head cocked to one side as if contemplating. Stiles’ hand was still on the knife, unmoving. Derek didn’t even so much as look at Stiles before his teeth ripped the fawn’s throat.  
Stiles closed his eyes, telling himself that it needed to happen. Derek was stronger than he was. 

Stiles carried the fawn back over his shoulder. Allison had his shirt folded up in her arms to save it from getting bloodied. Derek and Boyd, clothed in human form, had the doe hanging on a stick between the two of them as they walked slowly back to the village. Allison had Stiles’ bow and quiver as well, so he could keep his hands on the fawn. Stiles’ mind was blank now, numb. 

He didn’t know why he froze. He felt broken, bent out of shape. Stiles closed his eyes, seeing not only the fawn, but himself and his knife, killing. He killed so many without the blink of an eye, without so much as one sign of remorse, because he had to kill them. Self-defense was a good motivator. But the fawn had done nothing wrong. 

When they got back to town, Stiles couldn’t rid himself of the fawn fast enough. He walked bare chested through the village, both dried and fresh blood down his back and front, mixing with the red of his markings plain as day, with clenched fists. Adara trotted quietly beside him, her tail hung low to the ground. 

Stiles barely had time to start the fire to heat water for a bath when Derek arrived home, his massive form standing silently in the doorway. Stiles’ eyes cast downwards, watching the water roll slowly to a boil. He looked at his hands, smeared in blood, then back up at Derek, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he stepped towards him. 

Derek kissed him as though he hadn’t felt Stiles’ touch in months. It made Stiles’ knees give out, if only for a second as their bodies crashed together, Stiles clutching at Derek’s shirt, keeping him close. 

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s lips, his hand sliding up Derek’s chest, his fingers brushing across Derek’s stubbled cheek as he kissed Derek again. Derek breathed Stiles in as the kiss deepened, his blunt fingernails raking down Stiles’ back before cupping his ass, pressing Stiles against his body. 

“Anytime,” Derek said as his lips trailed down Stiles’ neck. “How about we wash the blood off your hands.” Derek had Stiles’ face cupped in his hands. Stiles nodded, leaning forward to capture Derek’s lips once more with his.

Derek stripped himself of his shirt as Stiles poured the hot water into the tub he had dragged into the middle of the room, mixing the boiling water with the cold. Derek’s hands were back on Stiles in seconds, deft fingers tugging at Stiles’ pants, unlacing them and shoving them down his thighs. Stiles let Derek undress him, stepping out of the skin tight, worn leather, his hands on Derek’s shoulders for support. 

Stiles got into the tub slowly, his eyes watching as Derek rid himself of his pants, dropping them by Stiles’ before he, too, climbed in. The water sloshed as Derek grabbed the sponge and soap, their legs entangling. Derek took his time scrubbing the blood off Stiles in soothing, circular motions. Stiles sighed, his eyes closing. 

“I don’t want to go to the bonfire,” Stiles admitted, looking down at his hands which were immersed in the water. Derek hummed as he poured water over Stiles’ shoulders. He looked back, turning his head towards Derek. “Go without me.” 

“No,” Derek grunted, his eyes casting a glance towards Adara, who was laying on a makeshift bed, stuffed with hay and covered in a dyed piece of fabric. Her eyes were open, watching them. “You’re coming, you want to.”

Stiles sighed. 

“What happened?” Derek asked. Stiles shrugged. 

“I don’t know, my aim was off.” 

“It wasn’t about your aim,” Derek chided, his arm wrapping around Stiles’ torso, pulling him back against Derek’s chest. Their fingers linked together beneath the surface of the water as Stiles rest his head back against Derek’s shoulder. 

“If I had gotten a better shot, it wouldn’t have suffered.”

“If you had killed it in one shot, would you feel less responsible?” Derek asked him. Stiles shrugged again. “The fire will be fun, it was your idea.” 

“I know,” Stiles smiled, his eyes closing. It had been his idea, he just wasn’t feeling like himself. “I wouldn’t miss Laura’s cake, anyway.” Derek chuckled as Stiles felt his muscles moving behind him. Derek was making himself more comfortable, his lips ghosting over Stiles’ bare shoulder. “We have time, before it starts...” 

“This is true,” Derek mused, his hand on Stiles’ stomach dipping lower. Stiles arched his back, his teeth raking over his bottom lip. “It isn’t yet dusk, we have time.” Derek’s fingertips brushed against Stiles’ cock, causing him to let out a breathy laugh. 

They barely toweled off before they fell into bed. Stiles straddled Derek, the palms of his hands on Derek’s chest as he moved, his head thrown back as he moaned at the feeling of Derek inside him. Derek gripped Stiles by his hips, hard enough to leave bruises as he fucked up into him. Stiles choked out a sob of ecstasy as Derek, in one swift movement, rolled them over, shoving Stiles back against the mattress, his body practically laying on top of Stiles as his momentum slowed. Stiles clawed at Derek’s back, his legs wrapping around him as he went deeper, his pace agonizingly pleasurable. Stiles panted, his mouth open, pupils blown as Derek reached down between Stiles’ legs and jacked him off as he thrust into him. 

“Derek,” Stiles gasped as he reached up and hooked a hand around Derek’s neck as he squirmed, his chest heaving. “Don’t leave me.” 

Derek’s pace faltered, but Stiles pulled him forward, capturing his lips. He gripped Derek’s ass in the palm of his hand, making him move within him. Stiles began rolling his hips, rutting against Derek, not allowing him to stop. Derek broke the kiss in order to leave a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down Stiles’ neck, his teeth scraping against his flesh. 

Derek pulled out, then wrapped his hand around the both of them, jacking them both off together until they made a mess on Stiles’ stomach and Derek’s hand. Stiles’ fingers were in Derek’s hair, tugging at it until Derek’s lips were on his once more. 

“Why would you think I would leave you?” Derek asked, his hand on Stiles’ chest as they caught their breath. Stiles shook his head, scoffing as he rubbed at his eyes. 

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“You said-”

“It was nothing,” Stiles said as he rolled off the bed, away from Derek’s embrace. Stiles washed himself off, then set about getting dressed. He felt Derek’s gaze on him as he moved about. Adara was on the bed with Derek, now, on her back as he scratched her belly. Stiles’ eyelids were heavy with the feeling of their touch, but he didn’t return to bed. 

Instead, he emptied the tub outside. The sun was just beginning to set, marking the start of the bonfire. Stiles walked back inside to find Derek still in bed, with Adara pulled close, his face buried in her fur, with her tail flopping around lazily. Stiles felt a pang of want, of need at the sight of them. He crawled into bed, his fingers going once more to Derek’s hair. They laid there until the sun was fully gone and the smell of the fire made Derek stretch, then get out of bed to dress. Stiles was content to continue laying with Adara, but she sat up, watching every movement that Derek made, her tail brushing against Stiles’ chin, her head tilted to one side. 

Stiles didn’t want to tell Derek about his dream, about the woman in black. He didn’t want to worry him. It was only a dream, after all. It wasn’t real.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for warning.
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who have already subscribed! Made my heart grow three sizes!

The bonfire signified the true end to winter, knowing that summer was approaching and the use of firewood for warmth was coming to an end. The deer was cooking over a side fire on a spit, the fawn nowhere to be seen. Stiles was handed wine, his cup never emptying due to Lydia’s refilling it every time he got to half full. His mind fuzzy and body buzzing, Stiles smiled easier than he had in months. Adara didn’t leave his side as he stood close to his father for most of the night, watching him cook. Derek was never out of Stiles’ sight, always in his periphery, talking to Scott, Danny, and Jackson. 

It seemed as though, in their absence, the girls all braided their hair intricately with ribbons. Melissa’s was even done. Laura had Allison sitting in a chair, sans a glass of wine, getting ribbons woven into her hair as they laughed about something Stiles could only guess at. 

“Are you happy?” Stiles asked his father. 

“Of course,” he said in answer. “Aren’t you?” Stiles bit his lip, thinking back to his and Derek’s afternoon. He got what he had always wanted, a cabin and safety. It rubbed him wrong, though. He felt as if he was on the edge of a cliff, about to fall off of it. 

“I am worried,” Stiles admitted to both his father and himself. “I feel like something is going to happen.” His father gave him an incredulous look. Stiles felt like he was being chastised with that look. 

“Stiles, we’ve been through this,” he said in a hushed tone. Stiles looked down at Adara whose tail was curled around his ankle, her paw on his boot. “The wards Erica has in place keep us safe.” Stiles nodded, knowing full well how safe they were in the confines of the town. But still. Stiles’ eyes trailed over the bonfire, his breath catching in his throat as he spotted her: the woman in black. 

Stiles’ eyes widened, his glass dropping from his hand and breaking as it crashed to the ground. Adara yelped in pain, bringing Stiles’ gaze down to her, reaching for her immediately. When he looked back, she was gone. With his heart beating in his throat and Adara wrapped up in his arms, Stiles made his way back to his cabin, alone. 

“What happened?” Adara asked as Stiles put her on the table, bringing an oil lamp close to get the glass out of her fur. Stiles shook his head, his lips pursed. 

“I thought I saw something,” he said dismissively. “It was nothing.” 

Adara’s ears were low, close to her head as she watched Stiles rip cloth for her bleeding paw. She whined when he applied pressure. 

“It was something,” she murmured petulantly. “You never drop things.” 

“Just, shh, Addie,” Stiles murmured, exasperated as the cabin door opened. Stiles started, his breath caught in his throat before he realized that it was Derek. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked Stiles. Adara shook her head, which got her a glare from Stiles. 

“She is fine,” Stiles said, knowing Derek had meant him, not Adara. 

“What did you see?” Derek inquired. Stiles stiffened, his fingers stopped wrapping Adara’s paw as he looked at her, refusing to meet Derek’s gaze on him. Derek sighed, pacing behind Stiles. “I wish you’d talk to me.” 

Stiles closed his eyes for only a second before he went back to caring for Adara. When he was done, he turned to Derek, holding Adara in his arms. 

“I haven’t been sleeping, I am tired. I thought I saw something, but I was wrong. That’s all.” 

Derek held his hand out, the one with the bond marked onto his skin, for Stiles to take. Once Stiles’ hand was in Derek’s, Derek pulled Stiles’ hand up to his lips. At first, Stiles thought he was going to kiss his knuckles, but it surprised him when Derek bit him, his teeth raking across his skin. Stiles hissed even though it barely stung. 

“Tonight, don’t wander off.” Stiles almost rolled his eyes, yanking his hand away, but he didn’t. “You need to sleep.” Derek’s words were soft, kind. He was worried. Stiles felt his own shoulders sag as he nodded his head. He was so tired. 

They rejoined the party, sitting by the fire until the moon was no longer out. The fire died down, then was put out by Scott before he and Allison headed inside, the last to go in besides Derek and Stiles. Stiles could hear his mother’s calls as the wind picked up around them, urging him to remember her warning. Stiles listened, his head resting against Derek’s shoulder as Adara slept in Derek’s lap. 

“Walk with me?” Stiles asked, standing up. He could always hear her better in the meadow. Derek handed Stiles Adara, nodding his head as he took his shirt off. It was as if he knew Stiles had meant that he had wanted Derek to be the wolf. Derek transformed before his eyes, leaving his clothes by the fire as Stiles started walking. It was dark, almost too dark to see due to the moon’s disappearance, but Stiles wasn’t scared. Darkness didn’t scare him, not when Derek was by his side. 

It was cool out, the wind keeping up a steady pace as they walked towards the meadow at the edge of the village. Derek stopped at the wooden fence that marked the edge of the ward, growling as Stiles walked towards it. 

It was the first night that Derek was accompanying him in his late night stroll, so he hadn’t known that Stiles had been leaving the village. 

“We left today, too, you know. The woods aren’t warded.” 

Derek’s eyes shone bright blue, as if they flashed in anger at him. Stiles looked out at the meadow, his mother’s whispers calling to him distantly. “I’m going.” 

Derek followed him, not fifty yards from the fence. Stiles laid down, looking up at the stars. Derek huffed as he laid down beside him, keeping his head up. He was staying alert. Stiles buried the fingers of his left hand into Derek’s fur as the other pet Adara, still asleep on his stomach. 

_“Do not trust anyone,”_ his mother cried out. Stiles bit his lip, closing his eyes. _Beware the smoke.”_

Stiles sat up in a start, waking Adara. He turned his head, shaking Derek awake. He had fallen asleep. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, his voice cracking as he remembered Derek disappearing into smoke. Derek didn’t stir beside him. For a moment, Stiles was worried. 

“What is it?” Adara asked, sleep addled. Stiles gripped Derek’s fur with both his hands and shoved him. 

“Derek!” Stiles screamed. Stiles heard laughter riding the back of the wind, whipping around him. Familiar laughter, that of the woman in black. Stiles looked around as he gasped for air. He was hyperventilating. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her, cast in complete shadow in the darkness. He let out a choked sob as he stood, pulling at Derek’s wolf form, getting him to the ward. 

_“The smoke, Stiles,”_ his mother warned again just as Stiles tripped backwards, falling to the ground as Derek dissipated before his eyes, smoke billowing out around him. The woman in black flashed forward, appearing suddenly in front of Stiles. Stiles screamed for Adara, who came bounding towards him. 

She, too, disappeared before his eyes. Stiles’ eyes widened, his chest heaving as he felt a shiver go up his entire body, consuming him. 

“Safety is relative,” the woman spoke, again using his mother’s voice. Stiles grit his teeth as a sheen of sweat covered his body, his hands shaking in fists. 

“Who are you?” He demanded. “Show me your face.” The woman reached out, touching his foot. Stiles felt as though he was sinking, falling into nothing, plummeting into darkness. It was suffocating him. 

Stiles landed with a thud, his heart jolting as he gasped for air, reaching out and finding bare arms, Derek’s arms. Tears fell freely down Stiles’ cheeks as he opened his eyes. Derek was naked. They were in the meadow still. Stiles had fallen asleep. It had been a nightmare, nothing more. 

“Stiles,” Derek agonized, his face drawn into a frown, his hands cupping Stiles’ face. Stiles pushed himself up by his elbows. Stiles extended his arm until his fingers brushed against Derek’s face. 

“I’m okay,” Stiles rasped, his voice shot and throat raw. “You’re okay.” 

“Stiles, you were screaming,” Derek quivered, his brow furrowed in concern. Stiles licked his lips, taking a second to think about what he had just dreamed. He hadn’t even realized he had been asleep. The night before, he knew deep down that it had only been a dream, but just then he had been so sure he was awake. That scared him more than the smoke, more than losing Derek. “Talk to me,” Derek begged. Stiles was soaked through once more with sweat, his chest heaving. 

“Nightmare,” Stiles managed to say as he raked his fingers through his own hair. 

“What happened?” Derek asked. “You said I am okay, as if I hadn’t been-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles rushed out as he sat up fully. “It was just a dream. I want to go back, let’s go to bed.” Stiles stood, picking up Adara, who squirmed in his arms. 

“I want to walk,” she whined. 

“Your paw,” Stiles reminded her through gritted teeth. Adara hopped down anyway. Derek turned back into the wolf without a word, then led the way back to their cabin. Adara walked beside Derek, Stiles a few steps behind them, his arms wrapped around his own torso. He had been so sure that it hadn’t been a dream, that he hadn’t been asleep. It felt too real, Derek’s solid form turning to smoke before his eyes, the burn of the loss as Adara had been taken. 

The feel of the woman’s touch, the tug deep within him that felt as though he was falling. Stiles’ breath came out in short bursts as he remembered the pitch black, the sinking into nothing. As soon as they were in the cabin, Derek turned back into a human, foregoing all clothes as he wrapped his arms around Stiles. 

“You’re shivering,” Derek pointed out as he pulled Stiles towards their bed. “Get under the covers.” Stiles moved without complaint, sighing as soon as Derek was with him in bed. “Breathe, Stiles.” 

Stiles shut his eyes, not wanting to think about how weak he must seem, being so affected by a dream. It was all just a dream, nothing more. She couldn’t hurt Derek, not really. 

Derek fell asleep holding onto Stiles, Adara curled up between them, her nose in Derek’s armpit as she slept. Stiles didn’t sleep, though. He made sure that he didn’t. He concentrated on his breathing, on Derek’s, and Adara’s. He pet Adara, slow and calming. He kept his eyes open, watching as the sun made its way above the horizon and filled their room with its warm morning light. 

Stiles watched Derek sleep, his mind unable to shake the feeling of loss. 

Once the sun was up, Stiles crawled out of bed, tugging Adara with him. She growled at him, nipping at his fingers playfully, pawing at him before he was able to get her off the bed and out the door. 

They walked to Erica and Boyd’s, walking despite the early hour. Stiles sat on a stool, resting his head on the wooden counter top as he waited for Erica to wake up. It didn’t take long for Stiles to hear footsteps, mumbling tones on the other side of their bedroom door. When Erica walked out, she had a smile on her face. She wore a simple dress, her hair hung loose, curled from the previous night’s braiding. 

“Stiles, you’re here early this morning,” she said as she started a fire to make tea. Stiles shrugged his shoulders as he sat up. 

“You need to help him,” Adara said, hopping up onto the high table. Stiles glared at her. Adara sat up taller, looking at Erica instead of Stiles. Erica’s racoon daemon, Sephus, joined Adara on the table, waiting for some biscuit. 

“Help with what?” Erica asked Adara with a frown as she set to getting tea out of jars, readying two mugs. Her eyes flicked momentarily to Stiles, but kept most of her attention on Adara. 

“His nightmares,” Adara said with her ears lowered. “He won’t talk about them to me or Derek.” Stiles’ jaw clenched. He had nothing to say to them, he didn’t want to talk about his mother’s voice, about the woman in black, about the smoke. 

He didn’t want to voice the fact that he keeps seeing Derek disappear before his eyes. If he said it out loud, it may happen. 

“Stiles?” Erica asked expectantly.

“They’re just nightmares,” he muttered, his fingers strumming against the tabletop. Adara shot him a glare. 

“They aren’t _just_ ,” Adara urged. “He screamed, and I felt them. I felt the nightmare.” Stiles sat up straighter. He hadn’t known that Adara had been feeling them. Erica lifted an eyebrow, humming to herself as she thought. 

“Felt them how, Addie?” Erica asked, her hand reaching out to run her fingers down Sephus’ fur. Adara looked at Stiles for a long moment before answering. 

“I felt a tug.” 

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, his head tilting back towards the ceiling. 

“A tug?” Erica inquired as she poured hot water into the mugs, then handed Stiles one of them. Stiles gulped as he waited for the tea to steep. “What sort of tug?” 

“A sinking, all encompassing tug, deep within,” Stiles whispered as his hands wrapped around the warm mug. 

“Yeah,” Adara murmured. “Like that.” Stiles didn’t like that Adara had felt it. It made it all the more real. 

“So you both felt it?” Stiles nodded at Erica’s question. “What were you dreaming about?” Stiles bit his lip, contemplating if he should tell her everything or only some. 

“I’ve been having recurring dreams,” Stiles started. “Well, I haven’t been sleeping,” Stiles let out a sigh, along with a shrug of his shoulders. “There is this woman, I can’t see her face.”

“Hmm,” Erica hummed as she took a sip of her tea. Stiles felt his skin prickling, goosebumps forming as he thought about her. 

“She keeps telling me Derek is going to leave.” 

Stiles looked down at his hands, unable to look up at Erica. He felt ashamed that dreams had this sort of effect on him, had him so worried. It seemed so silly when he said it out loud. He looked up when he felt Adara’s tongue on the back of his hand, comforting him. 

“You know that isn’t true, though,” Erica empathized. Stiles nodded, finally taking a sip of his own tea. 

“I know that, but it keeps happening.” 

“How about,” Erica said, walking over to Stiles and putting her hand on his shoulder, “we talk with Lydia? About making a tea for you to help you sleep better.” Stiles liked the sound of that.

Stiles made his way towards the inn after he finished with his tea. Erica promised that by nightfall, she and Lydia would have a tea made for him. Stiles walked slowly, his fingers playing with the ribbon that was wrapped around his scarred wrist. He had to think about how he was past the torture, past the pain of being an Alethiometer. He didn’t have to worry about the Magisterium or people coming for him. Those who wanted him were all dead. Everything was easier to remember when the sun was out, high above his head in the sky. Daylight made nightmares seem inconsequential. 

When he walked into the inn, it didn’t surprise him in the least to find his father sitting at the table with Derek, both hunched over deep in conversation. Stiles pretended he didn’t notice them both sit up straighter when they realized he had walked in. They had been talking about him. 

Adara hopped up onto the bench, practically running down it towards Derek. As soon as Derek’s hand was on Adara, Stiles felt himself relax. He sat close to him, their thighs pressed together comfortably. Adara was in Derek’s lap, her tail swishing back and forth happily. 

“Where’ve you been?” Derek asked casually as his thumb caressed Adara’s muzzle. He was asking her, not Stiles. Stiles gulped, feeling bad about leaving Derek in bed, waking up alone again. 

“We went to Erica’s,” Adara answered. Stiles reached across the table, grabbing a piece of bread, spreading jam over it before nibbling on it. He just needed to do something with his hands. The tension in the room was almost unbearable. 

“Oh?”

“She and Lydia are going to make me a tea,” Stiles spoke up, looking first at his father, then at Derek. “To help me sleep better.” Derek’s shoulders immediately sank, as if they had been tense. It made Stiles want to curl into him, tell him he was sorry for everything. He couldn’t, though. Not without telling Derek what he had been seeing. He didn’t want Derek to know about the woman in black, or the smoke. 

“That is good news,” his father said, forcing a smile. Stiles nodded as he put a hand on Derek’s thigh. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Stiles said by way of apology. Derek nodded his head once before he reached for his own cup of tea, sipping it. Stiles didn’t feel any of the tension dissipate. Derek wasn’t happy with him. Stiles pulled his hand away. 

“Today Boyd, Laura, and I are going out running,” Derek told him. “We won’t be back until after dark.” 

Stiles nodded, his heart hammering in his chest as Derek handed Adara to him, then stood up. Usually Derek would kiss Stiles’ forehead, or squeeze the back of his neck, touch him in some way. Derek left without so much as a look back at him, and it hurt. Stiles pulled Adara close to him, burying his head in her fur. 

When Stiles looked up, his father was shaking his head at him slowly, his fingers strumming against the tabletop. 

“Stiles, we- I am worried about you.” 

“I know,” Stiles whispered. 

“He loves you, but you aren’t- you need to trust him with what is going on with you.” 

“I don’t want him to see how weak I am,” Stiles admitted. His father let out a sigh, his hand rubbing at his face. 

“You aren’t weak, Stiles. You have survived, you are alive. You need to stop living in the shadows and live your life. You aren’t living it, son.” Stiles felt tears stinging his eyes at the truth of his father’s words. Stiles looked down at his wrists and watched as a tear fell, landing on Adara. “I am glad that you went to Erica, hopefully this tea will help.” 

“I think I’m going to go back over there,” Stiles said, wiping at his eyes. Adara hopped down from the bench so that Stiles could get up. “I’ll talk to Derek tonight when he gets back,” he promised. 

Stiles left the inn, taking his time as he walked through the village. Adara walked beside him, not doing her usual run around. 

“How is your paw?” Stiles asked her. 

“It’s fine,” she said, looking up at him. “Can you tell me what you saw in your dream?” 

“A woman,” Stiles told her. It was as if a weight lifted off his shoulders. “She sounded like Mom.” He cleared his throat after his voice cracked. 

“Oh,” Adara said, her tail lowering towards the ground. 

“Derek-” Stiles started to say, but stopped. His heart clenched in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. “Keeps leaving, he keeps disappearing.” Stiles waited for Adara to say something, but she remained quiet as she walked beside him. “I just started remembering dreams,” Stiles pressed on, “I feel like I have been having these dreams for a while but I just now have begun to remember having them after waking.” 

“I didn’t start feeling them until the other day,” Adara confessed. “I didn’t know what was happening.” Stiles frowned down at her. 

“I don’t like that you are feeling them,” Stiles told her, sighing. “And I don’t know how to tell Derek, or what to tell him. They are just dreams.” 

“The tea will help,” Adara said optimistically. Stiles smiled down at her, feeling better about the situation already. 

On the way back to Erica’s, they stopped at the blacksmith’s, watching Scott and Danny work for a while. By the time Stiles made it to Erica’s it was midday. She and Lydia were outside, hanging laundry on a clothesline. 

“Come help,” Erica said as soon as Stiles came into view. Stiles reached down, grabbing a shirt from a basket, hanging it up to dry. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Stiles answered, looking from Erica to Lydia. He thought about telling them about Derek, how he was angry with him, but he kept it to himself. 

“Erica and I were just discussing you, actually,” Lydia brought up, her head tilted to the side. “I had a couple of questions for you.” Stiles lifted his eyebrows, but shrugged. 

“Alright,” he drawled out as he grabbed a dress to hang up. Adara was bounding around in the grass around them, playing with Lydia’s panther daemon by jumping around it while Sephus watched lazily. 

“Erica mentioned a woman-” Stiles’ back stiffened. He didn’t want to talk about the woman in black. “And I was wondering if you could tell me more about her.” Stiles cleared his throat, shaking himself out of his worry. 

“Well, I never see her face,” Stiles admitted. “She has my mother’s voice, though,” he whispered. “She, uh, has this laugh that makes me shiver just thinking about it, and when she touches things, they disappear into a cloud of smoke.” 

Stiles waited for either Lydia or Erica to say something as they both exchanged glances. 

“Your mother’s voice? That’s interesting,” Lydia said offhandedly. “I’m thinking about going to market tomorrow, you should join me Stiles.” Stiles’ brow furrowed at Lydia’s attempt at subtlety. 

“What’s at market?” Stiles asked. Lydia bit her lip, her gaze falling once more to Erica. 

“We were going on an ingredients run, we need you to carry things,” she smiled. Stiles didn’t believe them for a second. Erica rolled her eyes at him. “We have someone we want you to talk to.”

“I don’t know...” 

“Well think about it, talk to Derek about it, ask him to come with us as well,” Lydia said, waving her hand around like it was nothing big. Stiles could tell, though, that they were holding back how important it was. 

“I’ll come,” Stiles told them. They both grinned at him. 

“We will have the tea for you later this afternoon,” Erica let him know, dismissing him. “I will drop it by when it is done.” Stiles nodded, then made his way back towards his cabin. 

When he got there, it was empty, quiet. Stiles looked around, then decided to make his way over to the inn to eat lunch. He didn’t like being alone in the cabin during the day, not when the sun was out and the breeze cool, light. Melissa and Allison were sitting outside at a table under an awning, eating sandwiches. Beside them at the table was a plate full of leftover meat from the night before, along with sliced bread and fruit. Stiles made himself a sandwich, then sat down next to Allison. 

“Do you want to go for a hike?” He asked her. He wanted to do something with his afternoon, but he wasn’t sure what. Allison’s shoulders sank. 

“I can’t, not today. But maybe tomorrow we can take the horses out, go riding.” 

“I am going to market tomorrow with Lydia and Erica,” Stiles said with a frown, “maybe if we left early I could be back in time.” Allison smiled, nodding as she ate her lunch. Stiles liked horseback riding with Allison because she always brought her bow and quiver. He could practice shooting from horseback. At the moment he couldn’t hit anything while moving. 

After lunch he and Adara took a walk around the lake. With the sun beating down on him, Stiles stripped himself of his shirt and pants, taking a dip in the cool lake. Adara, too, came in, splashing around as she paddled around in the water. Stiles floated on his back with his eyes closed, letting his body relax, his mind wander. He felt himself drifting off, so he moved his arms, pushing himself around in the water. Stiles opened his eyes when he felt the sun disappear behind a cloud. It surprised him, considering it had just been clear. 

“Addie,” Stiles said, wondering where she was. He didn’t hear any splashing around him letting him know her whereabouts. Silence. 

Stiles got himself upright, turning around in the water as he looked for her, his heart rate picking up slightly at the worry. “Adara!” He said louder. She wasn’t in the water or on the shoreline. Panic gripped him as he started swimming towards the shore. 

A hand wrapped around his ankle, tugging him underneath the water. Stiles screamed, unable to grasp for breath before he was plunged beneath the cold water, his arms trying desperately to get him back to the surface. He choked on the water, just as his vision turned dark. 

Stiles jerked awake in the water, his body flailing enough that he swallowed a good bit of the lake’s water as he righted himself. Adara was whining from the shore, pacing. Stiles coughed, rubbing a hand over his face as he gasped for air. He had fallen asleep. It had only been a dream, the hand grabbing him and pulling him under. 

Stiles swam back to dry land as quickly as possible, shaking off the water as best as he could. Adara was almost dry already, so he had been out for some time. 

“I thought you were going to drown,” she quivered, her body shaking. “It felt like you _were_ drowning.” Stiles looked out at the lake, his mouth hanging open as he breathed deeply. 

“I thought I was,” he admitted, his eyes wide. “Come on, let’s get home.” He walked for a while, naked, until his skin dried enough so that he could pull his pants up and put his boots on. He left his shirt off, holding it in his hand as he walked, his nerves on edge. 

When he got back to the cabin, Derek was there, sitting in a rocking chair, waiting. Stiles’s heart leapt in his chest at the sight of him. Stiles picked up his pace, almost running towards the cabin. 

“You’re back,” he said with relief. Adara hopped up onto Derek’s lap, pawing at him until he put a hand on her. Stiles relaxed immediately. 

“I am,” Derek said with a curt nod, his eyes cast downwards, at Adara. Stiles watched Derek pet her without saying anything to him. Stiles’ chest tightened. 

“I almost drowned in the lake,” Stiles admitted. Derek looked up at him, then, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. 

“You what?” 

Stiles cringed at Derek’s tone. 

“I took a walk around the lake, then decided to go in,” Stiles told him, stepping forward, towards the porch. “I was floating around on my back. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled down into the water-”

“Something pulled you-”

“It was a nightmare,” Stiles shot out quickly, his hands coming up defensively. “I woke up and coughed up water, but I am fine.” Derek had a hand covering his face, his head shaking. 

“Stiles-”

“I didn’t drown,” Stiles pointed out. 

“You can’t be falling asleep like that,” Derek exasperated. 

“I know.”

“What if you had?” Derek asked. “What if you didn’t wake up in time? I wouldn’t have known what happened.” Stiles stood there, staring at Derek as he shook his head. Derek wouldn’t have had to wonder, because if Stiles had drowned, Derek would have been dead. 

Derek stood up, then, letting Adara hop to the ground as he pulled Stiles towards him, wrapping his arms around him. Stiles buried his face in Derek’s shoulder, his fists clenched around Derek’s shirt. Derek smelled of grass and dirt, of running through the forest. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, his eyes shutting tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the nightmares, about everything.” 

“I know,” Derek admitted, sighing as his hand found the back of Stiles’ neck, his thumb caressing his skin. “Can you tell me about it now?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded his head. Yes, he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: Stiles almost drowns in this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles lay awake in bed with Derek asleep beside him, his arm draped over Stiles’ stomach with Adara curled around Stiles’ head. They had stayed up late talking about Stiles’ dreams, about the woman in black, about how she sounded like his mother. They discussed going to market with Erica and Lydia after the tea had been dropped off earlier in the evening. Stiles drank it, but he was wide awake. He felt himself drifting, his body tired and begging for sleep to take him, but his mind revolted. He didn’t want to have another nightmare. 

As always, he could hear his mother’s words of warning as the wind whipped through the nearby trees. He didn’t move, didn’t make his way towards the meadow, though. He told Derek he would stay in bed. 

“You cannot avoid me,” a voice rang out, making Stiles bolt upright in bed. Out of the shadows in the corner of his room, she appeared. The same black smoke that Derek turned into billowed around the floor, lifting up in wisps around her. It was as if it was coming from her. Stiles reached for Derek in order to wake him, but the woman tsked as she stepped forward. “Do not touch what isn’t yours.” 

Stiles clenched his jaw. Derek was his, the knot on the palm of his hand told him as much. Stiles looked down at his hand as a reminder that he was bonded to Derek. He put his hand on Derek, touching him with the bond. She hissed at him, her own hand shooting out towards Stiles. Her touch was cold, it burned him. 

“ _You_ don’t touch what isn’t yours,” Stiles spat. “He isn’t yours.” 

“He will be.” Stiles scoffed at her, despite the fact that his arm hurt from where she touched him. “You cannot stop me.” 

“I can, and I will,” Stiles stated, his voice wavering. He could almost see her face, the hood of her cloak was close enough that he could pull it away from her. He reached out, but as he did so he felt the tug that he knew so well, deep within him. He felt like he was being pulled out of his body. 

He woke up gasping for air with Derek’s hand on his forehead, the other on his bare stomach. It was light out, grey. It was just past dawn, a thick fog surrounded the house. Derek had opened the curtains to let some light into the room. Stiles turned towards Derek, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles whispered. Derek didn’t say anything as he sat. “But the tea didn’t work.”

“Maybe it takes time-”

“No,” Stiles stated as he sat up, grabbing onto Derek’s hand that had been on his forehead. “It was more vivid, it was more realistic. She appeared in here, in our room. She touched-” Stiles looked down at his arm and gasped. 

There were fingerprints burned into his arm, over his markings. With his eyes wide, Stiles looked to Derek. 

“Do you see this?” Stiles asked, panicked. Derek shook his head, his brow furrowed. 

“See what?” Stiles gulped. Derek couldn’t see where she had touched him, but Stiles saw it plain as day. Stiles looked to Adara, who was curled up on his pillow, shaking. 

“Addie,” Stiles croaked out, his voice catching in his throat as he reached for her. “Please tell me you didn’t feel it.” 

“It burned,” she whined. Stiles frowned as he pulled her close. He wasn’t at all shocked when she licked his arm directly where the burn was. At least Adara knew. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy. Stiles heard Derek sigh, catching him out of the corner of his eye as he wiped a hand over his face. 

“This can’t just be nightmares,” Derek confessed. Stiles’ back stiffened. 

“But-”

“Nightmares don’t _burn_ , Stiles. Nightmares don’t drown people.” Stiles bit his lip, because he knew that she wouldn’t actually drown him, not if she wanted Derek. She was trying to scare him. 

“We’re going to market, Lydia and Erica know of someone who can help.” Stiles’ attempt at optimism seemed to calm Derek down, because Derek’s shoulders relaxed, his eyes closing. Stiles leaned into him, breathing deeply as he felt arms reach around him, hugging him close. 

Erica, Lydia, Stiles, and Derek traveled with a cart for supplies, along with two extra horses. Stiles and Lydia rode on horseback while Erica drove the cart with Sephus. Lydia’s panther daemon, Lyacon, ran with Adara and Derek. Stiles spent the hours it took to get to market thinking. He wasn’t sure why the tea made his dream feel so real. It wasn’t like the lake, where he had drifted off. He didn’t even recall closing his eyes before she appeared. 

Once at market they gathered supplies first. They sold linens that Laura had dyed, bread she baked, and metalwork that Danny had made. Lydia bought herbs, smiling at Stiles as she waved the vials of dried plants in front of him. 

“I am going to make you something else when we get back.” Stiles nodded, giving her a reassuring smile, despite not believing it would help. Erica brought Stiles to a tent at the edge of the market. Inside a man was seated on a cushion in loose fitting clothing, the light from the oil lamp beside him casting his face in shadows. 

“You must be Stiles,” he said, offering Stiles a seat on a cushion opposite him. Stiles looked to Derek, who remained by the tent’s opening. The tent wasn’t big enough for more than three people and Erica was already seated. 

“I am,” Stiles said, making sure his arms were covered. His shirt was long sleeved with pieces of fabric wrapped around his arms, keeping the linen of the shirt close to his body. He had a leather vest on that matched his pants covering enough of the back of his neck so none of his markings were showing. Stiles hardly ever went to market, just in case. He felt vulnerable surrounded by so many people he didn’t know, didn’t trust. 

“I’m Isaac,” he offered with a smile. Stiles nodded his head once, putting his hands in his lap. Isaac’s daemon, a goose, sat in his lap. Adara was seated beside Stiles, looking back at Derek, her tail brushing against Stiles’ leg. “We have much to discuss.” 

“Who are you, exactly?” Stiles asked, looking between Erica and Isaac. They exchanged glances. 

“Isaac,” Erica said, offering a hand towards Isaac, “is a Hedge Mage.” Stiles lifted an eyebrow. “He can help us.” 

“Hedge Mage?” Stiles asked. “What is that? Like Erica?” 

“More powerful than me,” Erica said with a smile. Isaac was smirking at her. “Think more along the lines of Morrell, but more knowledgeable, more powerful.” The hairs on Stiles’ arms stood on edge, along with Adara’s fur. 

“Tell me, Stiles,” Isaac started, his hands reaching across the small table, his fingers asking Stiles to put his hands on Isaac’s. Stiles complied without a word. Isaac turned Stiles’ hands over, looking at the bond, before continuing on. “How long have you been seeing Her.” 

Stiles’ eyes widened. 

“Do you know who she is?” Stiles asked, gulping. Isaac’s lip twitched, but he didn’t answer. “Do you know-”

“How long?” Isaac asked again, his fingers wrapped around Stiles’ wrists, holding his hands still. Stiles bit his lip. 

“Not sure, at least a week. I feel like she’s been there for a while, but I didn’t start remembering her until a few days ago.” 

“Do you think I could give you something to put you to sleep? So I can try something.” Isaac’s voice was sincere enough, but Stiles still felt uneasy. He didn’t want to sleep, not here. Stiles pulled his hands back from Isaac, wrapping them around his shoulders. 

“I don’t think so, no.” 

Erica reached out to Stiles, her hand resting on his shoulder for comfort.

“Stiles, Derek and I will be here. We came here to get help, I think you need to do this.” Stiles twisted his body so he could see Derek, his form completely covering the tent’s opening. 

“Okay,” Stiles murmured. “I’ll do it.” 

Isaac had Stiles lay out on cushions, shirtless. Stiles had refused at first. Only Derek could talk him into trusting Isaac enough to do it. Isaac smeared a paste on Stiles’ chest, its aroma filling his nostrils almost immediately. His eyelids became heavy as the room spun around him. All he could do was reach for Derek’s hand as darkness overtook him. 

Stiles was aware in a way that he couldn’t quite grasp. He felt light, despite the pitch black that surrounded him. A fog-like smoke billowed around him as he glided without so much as moving his legs. He was shirtless, just like when he had fallen asleep. He felt aimless, alone without Adara by his side. Stiles could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he sensed her presence, but could not see her. He knew the woman in black was near, could feel it deep inside himself. Then, one by one around him, he heard wolves howling. They were surrounding him, their eyes appearing against the blackened smoke in colors of red, blue, and yellow. 

“Show yourself,” Stiles called out, his fists clenched tight, his body shaking. Her laughter filled the void as the wolves appeared, circling around him, closing him in. She came into view, walking towards him, the black smoke parting for her as if she was the one causing it in the first place. 

“It wasn’t wise, coming to me,” she chided. Stiles was on his knees in seconds, pain ripping up his arm, starting at his palm, the bond glowing bright. “Tell the Mage to stay out of this,” she hissed. Around him, wolves growled. 

Stiles grit his teeth, looking up at her. 

“What do you want from me?” Stiles asked her. She smiled, Stiles realized. He could see her smile. She looked away from Stiles, to one of the wolves. It strode forward, sitting by her side, its blue eyes staring at Stiles. 

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. 

“No,” he gasped. “You can’t have him.” 

Pain erupted from the bond once more, in a short burst, before it disappeared completely. The mark was gone, along with the pain. Stiles screamed in rage as he got to his feet, lunging at her. Derek leapt towards him, his teeth bared, knocking Stiles onto his back, his paws holding him against the ground, claws digging into his bare flesh. Stiles panted, his eyes wide. 

“Derek-”

“Warn the others, I will have my army.”

Stiles barely had time to realize what she was talking about before Derek ripped out his throat. 

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice filtered through a haze. Stiles felt Derek’s hands on his face, cupping it as he spoke his name. “Stiles wake up, damn you.” Stiles eyes opened, rolling backwards as he came to. “Thank the stars,” Derek whispered close to Stiles’ ear as he bent over him. “You’ve been lost for an hour.”

“Lost?” Stiles asked, his voice raspy from the dryness in his mouth. Isaac came into view with herbs burning in a bowl that he held in his hands. Erica, too, had a bowl that had smoke coming up from it. Lydia sat beside Erica, cheeks tear stained, her hands covering her mouth. “What happened?” Derek’s thumb glided against Stiles’ cheek, which reminded Stiles of what the woman in black had said. 

“A warning,” Stiles got out as fast as he could. He could feel her words slipping from his memory has he said them: “She wants us to know that she will have her army.” 

“What does that mean?” Derek asked, his brow furrowed. Stiles shook his head, scared of what that implied. 

“Addie,” Stiles called out, sitting up. “Where is Addie?” It was then that Stiles realized that she was curled up in Derek’s lap, still as could be. She wasn’t breathing. Stiles panicked, reaching for her, taking her from Derek. “Addie,” Stiles cried. “Why isn’t she breathing?” 

“You weren’t breathing, either,” Derek admitted, his voice hollow. Stiles’ eyes shot up, locking with Derek’s. Derek looked sick, devastated. Derek thought Stiles was dead, or was going to die. “We didn’t know what happened.” 

Stiles looked to Isaac. 

“What did you do to me, Mage?” Stiles bellowed. Erica, Isaac, and Lydia all flinched. 

“It wasn’t me,” Isaac insisted. “It was the Dreamwalker who did it. She trapped you in your own dream. I hadn’t known it was her until it was too late.” 

“Dreamwalker?” Stiles asked just as Adara moved in his arms. “Addie,” he breathed out in a sigh of relief. 

“Derek!” Adara screamed, burrowing herself into Stiles’ lap as she shook. Derek looked at Stiles, heartbroken. 

“Stiles, what-”

“You were there,” Stiles told him. “You killed me, she made you kill me.” 

“That isn’t possible.”

Stiles looked down at his chest. He could see the claw marks from where Derek held him down. He didn’t want to know what his neck looked like to Adara. 

“Addie, you know that wasn’t really Derek,” Stiles tried to tell her. His heart ached for her, for Derek. She was scared of him. Derek reached out for her, but she bit him. 

Derek pulled back his hand, clearly more upset about Adara’s reaction than to the bite itself, even though it was bleeding. Stiles looked at Derek, not knowing what to say to him as he held Adara close. Stiles looked down at his bond, relieved to see that it, at least, was still there. The pain of its loss still ripe within him. 

“Tell me about this Dreamwalker,” Stiles demanded, his gaze falling to Isaac. “And does she have a name?”

“I do not know her name,” Isaac admitted somberly. “But I do know of her. She is shrouded in black, only appearing as a sign of warning. An omen.” 

“An omen of what?” Derek asked, his hand resting on Stiles’ lower back. Stiles leaned into the touch, relaxing despite Adara’s growls of discontent. 

“Has she said anything else? Was there anything else in your dreams that was recurring?” Isaac asked. Stiles nodded. 

“Black smoke,” Stiles said, thinking about sinking into the darkness, about how Derek disappeared in its wake, along with Adara. “This time there were wolves, a pack of them. Derek was among them.” 

“But this Dreamwalker,” Lydia spoke up, “she’s just an omen, right?” 

“Wrong,” Isaac answered. “She is real, only she seems to have chosen Stiles to torment, to warn the rest of her intentions. My guess is, she is coming for you.” A shiver went down Stiles’ spine. She was real. 

Stiles turned towards Derek, his eyes falling to Derek’s parted lips. 

“She’s not coming for me,” Stiles confessed, his hand reaching out until he held onto Derek’s neck. “She’s coming for Derek.” Derek took a step back, Stiles’ hand falling. 

“Why would she come for me?” Derek asked. “You’re the Alethiometer.” Isaac stiffened at the word, but said nothing. Stiles’ jaw clenched, his fingers digging into Adara’s fur. “I’m not leaving you.” 

“I know,” Stiles said plainly. “I’m just telling you that I know she isn’t coming for me.” Stiles picked Adara up, making her face Derek. Adara scratched at him, but he forced her to hold still. “And Addie is scared because you just ripped my throat out in the nightmare I was having.” Stiles exchanged glances with Isaac. “Something else, Mage,” Stiles said to him, his voice low. “Is that I can see what was done to me in my dreams. In it, Derek’s claws gouged my chest. I can see them. Last night the Dreamwalker, as you called her, burned fingerprints into my arm and when I woke up they were there, but Derek couldn’t see them. Addie can see them too.”

“Interesting,” Isaac mused, touching Stiles’ chest. Adara growled at him, but Stiles covered her muzzle with his hand, holding her mouth together. Adara pawed at him, but he didn’t relent. “Do you mind laying back again, and telling me where the claw marks are, and the burn?”

Stiles laid back down, handing Adara off to Derek. She struggled, yelping unhappily as he did it. She whined continuously as Stiles pointed out the marks that were plain as day to him, along with her fingerprint shaped burns she left on his skin. 

“You know that wasn’t me,” Derek said into Adara’s ear. Her ears were pressed back against her head, her body shaking. “I would never do that to him.” Adara whined again, her tail moving in a jerky fashion against Derek’s leg. She was watching Stiles, watching Isaac’s hands hovering over Stiles’ chest and arm. 

“She is more powerful than I originally thought,” Isaac admitted, his voice solemn. “You said that this is a new development? Within the last day?”

“Yesterday I almost drowned in the lake, I fell asleep without intending to and she dragged me under the water in my dream. When I woke up, I was underwater. This morning the burns were there.” 

“She is getting stronger, then.” Isaac looked to Derek. “If she is really coming for you, then I would be wary of any strangers that come to your village. In the meantime,” Isaac said as he looked to Stiles, “I’m going to make you an amulet. I want you to wear it tonight and see if it will ward against her.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” Derek asked, his hands busy petting Adara. Her eyes were closed, relaxed. Stiles sat up, glad to put his shirt on. “What happens if it doesn’t work?” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, except that the dreams won’t stop until she comes for you.” 

“The village is warded against enemies,” Erica pointed out. Stiles nodded his head, glad that she remembered, because in that moment he had forgotten. Isaac pursed his lips together as he worked at piecing a small amount of herbs into a tiny vial, small enough that Stiles could wear it around his neck, attached to twine. 

“Perhaps if I joined you, I could add to those wards.” 

“Do you really want to join this?” Lydia asked, speaking up finally. “You’ve said in the past that you wished to remain neutral in all things. This would be choosing a side, Isaac.” 

“You and Erica have come to me many times, and I to you,” Isaac pointed out. Stiles hadn’t known that, but then again he rarely left the village. He didn’t know what everyone did when they went to market. “I do not wish anything bad to happen to your village. The wards will be stronger if I came.” 

“Come with us, then,” Derek said, standing. He had Adara in his arms, still, but handed her back to Stiles. “Because I want you there tomorrow morning when he wakes up with something worse done to him.” 

Stiles felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. He could handle fake claw marks on his skin, but he didn’t want Derek taken. If Isaac really could help them, he wanted Isaac by their side. Isaac handed Stiles the amulet. It was warm to the touch, which surprised Stiles. 

“It’s radiating magic,” Isaac stated, smiling. “It means it is working.” 

Derek and Lydia helped Isaac strike his tent and pack his things onto the back of their cart. He didn’t have very many possessions but owned a donkey to hold some of his things. Stiles sat in the cart, his head leaning against the side of it as Adara sat in his lap. 

“I don’t like this,” Adara brought up. Stiles shut his eyes, sighing out his frustrations. “I thought Derek-”

“I know, Addie,” Stiles grieved. “But he didn’t do it, _she _did. It wasn’t him.”__

__“I saw it, though,” she murmured, her ears lowering. “I didn’t just feel it, I saw it.” Stiles frowned, because he had been alone in the dream, Adara hadn’t been by his side. Stiles pet her as he contemplated the intensity of the nightmares, how they were becoming more and more powerful. He snapped out of his thoughts when Derek appeared beside him, his chin on the edge of the cart._ _

__“Do you want me with you or as a scout?” Derek asked, wanting to know if he should be the wolf or not. Stiles gulped, thinking about Derek’s teeth, his claws. It was the first time he had ever been scared of Derek, and that frightened him._ _

__“Join me,” Stiles rasped. Derek smiled at him, not knowing the war Stiles was having within himself about the wolf. Erica drove the cart as Isaac and Lydia rode the horses. There was just enough room in the back of the cart to fit Derek and Stiles, crammed between all the supplies and Isaac’s things. Stiles leaned against Derek, his head resting on his shoulder. Adara was splayed out across the both of them, her tail swishing happily as Derek pet her. Stiles smiled at the feeling of warmth that spread throughout his body at Derek’s touch._ _

__The ride back to Evenstar was long, quiet. Stiles didn’t talk as he played with the vial around his neck. Derek, too, stayed awake but said nothing. Stiles spent the hours holding onto Derek’s hand, intermittently checking to see if his bond was still intact. It always was, though. If Derek questioned why Stiles kept checking it, he didn’t voice those concerns._ _

__The Sheriff was surprised to see them arrive with a newcomer but seemed to realize that Stiles didn’t want to do the explaining. He and Derek left Lydia and Erica to do introductions and set Isaac up in the inn until they found him a more permanent residence._ _

__“I shouldn’t be afraid to sleep, right?” Stiles asked Derek as he stripped out of his clothes as soon as they were alone in their bedroom._ _

__“I think we should attempt to trust the Hedge Mage,” Derek stated plainly as he too, rid himself of his clothes. Stiles hummed lightly to himself as he slipped into the bed, sighing contentedly as he covered himself up with the sheets. The bed smelled of Derek and Adara, and mostly himself but those were the scents that made him more relaxed._ _

__“Are you still angry with me?” Derek asked. Stiles almost answered him before he realized that Derek was talking with Adara and not with him. Stiles closed his eyes, waiting for her to answer._ _

__“Promise you won’t hurt him,” Adara said, climbing on top of Stiles. He was laying on his stomach as she sat on his back. Stiles opened his eyes, finding Derek instantaneously. Derek was sitting up in bed, the fabric of the sheets barely covering his lap._ _

__“I will never hurt Stiles or you.”_ _

__Stiles’ heart hurt, knowing that Derek couldn’t possibly keep such a promise when they had no idea what was coming, but his answer seemed to satiate Adara’s worries. Stiles reached his hand out, squeezing Derek’s thigh in reassurance. Derek’s hand covered his, his thumb moving across the back of Stiles’ hand. They sat there, silent and still, for what felt like ages before Adara moved. She jumped off the bed and walked out of the room, laying on her mat in the kitchen. Stiles’ brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted his head, his eyes searching for Adara. As he did so, Derek moved, slipping beneath the covers and pulling Stiles close, his lips finding Stiles’ easily. Stiles let Derek roll him over onto his back, pinning his hands above his head as Derek straddled him. Stiles moaned into Derek’s mouth as the kiss deepened and Derek rut against him, their cocks sliding against each other._ _

__“I want you,” Derek murmured, his lips leaving a trail down Stiles’ neck. Stiles grunted, his hips rolling upwards, searching for more friction as one of Derek’s hands slipped down his bare chest until it wrapped around both of them. Stiles bit his lip as he looked into Derek’s eyes, letting out a moan as Derek began stroking them, stopping momentarily to cup Stiles’ balls. Stiles closed his eyes, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as Derek bit down on the tender flesh at the base of his neck. “Thought I lost you,” Derek shuddered, letting Stiles know how much the day’s happenings affected him. Stiles squirmed beneath him, freeing his hands in order to reach up and tug at Derek’s hair before raking his nails down Derek’s back, opening his legs wide as he hooked his ankles around Derek’s legs._ _

__“I’m scared,” Stiles admitted between choked sobs as he felt his climax approaching. He arched his back as he held onto Derek’s hips, his grip strong enough that it could leave bruises. Derek buried his face between Stiles’ shoulder and neck, breathing him in. Stiles brushed his lips against Derek’s temple, his eyes closed._ _

__“You aren’t alone in that,” Derek said, “but for now we are safe.” A finger nudged between Stiles’ legs, making him groan as Derek breached him. Stiles let out a stuttered breath._ _

__“Need oil,” Stiles managed to gasp. Derek was off of him in seconds, in search for the vial they kept. Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, watching Derek move around the room. He wanted to be close to Derek, didn’t want to leave his side. He wanted Derek inside of him, needed to feel that connection. When Derek returned to bed, Stiles rolled over, spreading his legs wide as a hand tugged on his erection, face buried against his pillow. Stiles let out a sigh as Derek’s slicked up fingers pressed against him, his body reacting by moving back, fucking himself slowly on Derek’s fingers. Derek didn’t waste time with his fingers, prepping Stiles quicker than he normally would have. Stiles spread his arms out, fists clenching around the sheets as Derek entered him, holding tight to Stiles’ waist as he did so._ _

__Panting for breath, Stiles moaned open-mouthed, his eyes shut tight as Derek’s need surfaced in a relentless pace, desperation encompassing them both by filling the room with the sounds of skin against skin, their gasps of pleasure bouncing off the walls. Unable to hold back, Stiles grunted over and over as Derek fucked into him. Derek let out his frustrations, his hand sliding up Stiles’ back, finding his hair and yanking. Stiles turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Derek as he was pressed against the mattress. Derek leaned over him, linking his arms around Stiles’, his teeth raking over the back of Stiles’ neck, nipping at his ear. Stiles’ eyes rolled back as Derek’s pace slowed, but his thrusts deepened. Stiles’ hands found Derek’s, linking their fingers together._ _

__“We are safe,” Derek reiterated against Stiles’ sweat covered skin. Stiles fell apart beneath him, letting out a shuddering breath, choking back his emotions as he bit down on Derek’s knuckles, coming against the sheets. Derek groaned on top of him, picking up the pace once more. Stiles let out a litany of indiscernible noises as Derek came, continuing to move within him. Slowly, Derek pulled out of him, his hands cupping Stiles’ ass as he left a trail of kisses down Stiles’ spine before his mouth found its way to Stiles’ ass. Stiles whimpered at the feel of Derek’s tongue on him, licking him. His legs felt like jelly as Derek licked him clean, taking his time now, taking Stiles’ balls into his mouth before licking all the way up and down the cleft of his ass. Stiles tugged at the sheets that surrounded him, he was oversensitized and Derek touching him made him feel like he was going to pass out but Stiles wasn’t about to stop him._ _

__Stiles felt his eyelids becoming heavy, shaking his head in order to attempt to keep from drifting off. He knew sleep was imminent, could feel it overtaking him as Derek settled in beside him, an arm draped over his stomach. Stiles knew he was laying in a sticky mess, but he couldn’t find the energy to move or tell Derek. Unable to hold onto consciousness any longer, Stiles succumbed to the darkness._ _

__Stiles could feel Derek’s arms around him, was aware of the rise and fall of his own chest as he lay with his limbs tangled with Derek’s, but he was unable to open his eyes. He felt as though he was in limbo, not quite awake and most definitely not fully asleep. He felt paralyzed._ _

__“Your Mage thinks he is so smart,” his mother’s voice rang out surrounding him in the darkness that was his mind. Stiles tried moving his mouth to talk back, but he found himself unable to. She laughed, short and menacing. It sounded like she was doing it right in his ear, as if she was standing over him. “He cannot stop me. I may be unable to enter your dreams, but I can keep you like this for as long as I wish. You cannot do anything about it, and neither can your wolf.”_ _

__Stiles felt himself breathing heavily in short bursts. He was having a panic attack. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move as he felt Derek stir beside him, his hand on Stiles’ back, trying to wake him. Stiles managed to open his lips, let out a groan, but it was futile._ _

__“When I come for him, you will hand him over willingly.” Stiles wanted to scream at her that he wouldn’t, but nothing came out. Derek had Stiles pushed onto his back now, his hands cupping his face. It was disconcerting, being aware of everything Derek was doing to him but being unable to stir. “If you do not, I will _destroy_ you.”_ _

__Stiles waited, unable to move or speak, for her to say something else. She didn’t, though. Stiles was left alone in the darkness, trapped._ _

__“Stiles, wake up,” Derek all but screamed as he shook Stiles. Stiles’ body was limp, his head moving to the side, his arms flailing at the force Derek used on him. Stiles wanted to scream out as he tried in vain to wake himself, but he wasn’t able to._ _

__He was trapped in silence._ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notice: added tags
> 
> I have uploaded my havoc playlist [here](http://www.mediafire.com/?vn6txwblzncn8kp)! You can listen to it streaming [here](http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Havoc/85039245) beforehand, if you like. I think the playlist itself really sets the tone of the fic in general. 
> 
> I can be found on tumblr at [slipintothewater](http://slipintothewater.tumblr.com).

Derek couldn’t breathe, his chest constricting as Stiles hung limply in his arms. He looked around the empty room, pulling Stiles’ body against his.

“Adara!” he shouted, hoping she too, wasn’t in the same state that Stiles was. He heard nothing from here, no movement, not even a whimper. Derek growled to himself, looking back down at Stiles, a hand cupping his face. “Stiles, wake up.” 

It was disconcerting knowing that Stiles had, not even minutes before, being beneath him, writhing around as Derek took him. Derek let out a shuddering breath as he lay Stiles down on the bed, covering his naked body with a sheet before he quickly began dressing himself. His gaze kept falling to Stiles’ unmoving body. He was breathing, but barely. 

Derek stalked back over to the bed, placing a knee on the mattress as he leaned over Stiles’ body, kissing him on the forehead. 

“I’m going to get that Mage. I’m going to fix this.” 

Derek pushed himself away, running his hands across his face then through his hair, his jaw clenched. Adara lay just as still as Stiles on her mat in the kitchen. Derek let out a low, animalistic whine as he passed by her. 

Derek ran to the inn, barging in, slamming the door against the wall. The Sheriff and Melissa were in the kitchen, both of them shouting as Derek stepped inside. 

“What in the-”

“Derek, what’s going on?” The Sheriff asked. 

“It’s Stiles,” Derek panted, a hand on the door frame as he caught his breath. “He won’t wake up. I need the Mage.” 

“He isn’t here,” Melissa said, her eyes wide. “He went exploring around the village, Laura is with him-”

Derek didn’t wait around. He turned on his heels, pulling his shirt off of him as he walked back out the way he came. Within seconds he was a wolf, transformed and running, his nose guiding him to Laura. He knew her scent well, could find her faster than he could find Isaac. It didn’t take him long to find them by Laura’s hearth. 

His fur was on end, sticking up along his spine. It was Isaac’s fault that Stiles wasn’t waking up, Derek was sure of it. He growled, baring his teeth. 

“Derek?” Laura asked, her hands on her hips. “What’s-”

“Something happened to Stiles,” Isaac interrupted, his eyes looking east, towards Derek’s cabin. Derek’s ears flattened momentarily before he took off running back to the cabin, knowing they would follow him. He arrived back to find both Adara and Stiles right where he had left them. Derek nudged Adara with his nose before he made his way into his and Stiles’ room, jumping up onto the bed long enough to lick Stiles’ face, wishing he would awaken. 

By the time Isaac and Laura came running into the cabin, Derek had pants on. He was barefoot, though, and forwent a shirt. He was sitting on the bed with Stiles’ head between his legs, resting on his lap, his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. Derek was staring at them as they approached. 

“What happened?” Isaac asked. 

“You have to fix this,” Derek said through gritted teeth, looking up at Isaac through hooded eyes, his brow furrowed. 

“Derek tell him what happened!” Laura exclaimed, her fists bunched at her sides. “And maybe he can.” Derek shot her a look, but then his gaze dropped. 

“We were laying in bed,” he said, licking his lips, his thumb moving across Stiles’ skin in small circles, “and he fell asleep. I felt him... let go. It was like he wasn’t there. He isn’t there, he isn’t waking up.” 

Isaac stepped forward, his hands hovering over Stiles. 

“I shook him pretty hard,” Derek explained in a sigh. “Adara won’t wake either.” 

“Bring her in here, near Stiles,” Isaac demanded as he put his hands on Stiles’ temples. Derek hesitated, then went to retrieve Adara. He picked her up carefully, holding her close as he walked into the small bedroom. Laura was against the window, her arms crossed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip in concern as Derek sat back down on the bed, keeping Adara in his arms. She was breathing in fast, short bursts, as if she was dreaming. Isaac was watching her, a hand reaching out, then stopping. 

If he touched Adara without permission, it would be a great offense. Derek had the knee-jerk reaction of twisting his body, keeping Isaac from doing just that. 

“I want to try something, to see if they are linked.” 

“How?” Derek asked, unsure. 

“It has to do with energy. I can feel it, and-”

“Derek, let him help,” Laura pleaded. “Stiles would allow it.” Derek relaxed, nodding his head once, watching every move that Isaac made as he laid a hand on both Adara and Stiles. As soon as his hand was on Adara, Stiles let out an audible breath. Derek’s eyes shot up to Isaac, his jaw hanging open. 

“What just happened?” 

Isaac shook his head, his eyes were closed as if concentrating. Derek shut his mouth and watched, waiting. Nothing else happened as time passed. Laura began pacing, biting at her thumbnail. 

“I’m going to get the Sheriff,” she announced. “He should be here.” 

“Bring me Erica and Lydia!” Isaac shouted out as Laura disappeared out the door. He took his hand from Adara, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“Well?” Derek asked. Isaac only shook his head. Derek’s nostrils flared. 

“Do you have smelling salts with you, here?” Isaac asked. Derek lifted an eyebrow. “No? Well, I’m sure when Lydia arrives we can ask her to get us some. Perhaps that will wake him.” 

“You say that as if he is merely asleep,” Derek accused. Isaac shrugged at him. Derek almost stood up and choked him. “Something is _wrong_ with him.” 

“I know that,” Isaac told him, his voice rising in pitch. They were both silent as they waited for the others to arrive. Derek laid Adara down, placing her between Stiles’ arm and torso so it looked as if they were just sleeping. They were just sleeping, he told himself over and over in his mind. They were alive. 

Derek looked down at the palm of his hand, at the bond, a reminder that he was linked to Stiles and Adara. Derek didn’t know what to think about everything that had been happening. Stiles had just opened up to him, finally, telling him about his nightmares and now he wasn’t waking up. 

“He’s trapped,” Derek murmured, looking up at Isaac, his eyes wide. “Stiles is trapped in his own mind.”

“This could be _her_ doing,” Isaac said with a frown. “She seems to be getting stronger...” Derek wasn’t paying attention to Isaac. Instead he grabbed hold of Stiles’ hand, putting their bond marks together. Stiles’ chest rose slightly higher than it had been, as if he breathed more deeply. Maybe it helped him, somehow. 

Laura burst back in with Erica, Lydia, and the Sheriff in tow. 

“Lydia, good,” Isaac said. “I need smelling salts, do you have some readily available?” 

Derek zoned out, not listening as Isaac asked Erica and Lydia to fetch a list of things for him. He was aware that they dashed back to their homes to retrieve everything, that Laura’s hand was on his shoulder, and that the Sheriff was hovering near the doorway with his hands covering his face. Derek kept holding Stiles’ hand. 

“Derek, snap out of it!” Laura exclaimed as she shook him. Derek looked around the room, surprised to find that Erica and Lydia were back. Lydia had the smelling salts out and swept them under Stiles’ nose. There was no reaction. 

Derek’s stomach sank. He should have woken up, sat upright and complained. Derek squeezed Stiles’ hand. Derek’s gaze fell on Isaac and Erica. 

“What are you two doing?” He asked. 

“There is a way to enter his dream,” Isaac said plainly as he mixed herbs together into two pouches. “Erica is going to-”

“Not Erica, me,” Derek snapped. “If anyone is going to-”

“No,” Isaac interrupted. “Erica is a witch, you are just a Changeling. You cannot do this, it is too dangerous. She might fall into the coma as well.” Derek’s back stiffened. “But we need to know what is happening, if anything is going on.” 

“Erica, you don’t need to do this,” The Sheriff spoke up. “Maybe he’ll wake up on his own.” 

Silence fell, all of them looking at Stiles’ body covered in scars and the markings of the Alethiometer. Derek ached, his body wanting to collapse on top of Stiles. He wanted to be alone with him, to cry over his body. Instead, his face showed no emotion at all. Stoic and silent he watched as Erica placed another amulet over Stiles’ head, lifting it carefully. She had a matching one on as she lay down next to Stiles, putting a hand on him. 

“I’m going to need the tea,” Erica said, her voice low. “I can’t fall asleep right now.” Lydia made her way to the kitchen to use the mixture that she and Erica had made Stiles the day before. Derek closed his eyes, not believing how much had happened in such a short amount of time. 

While they waited for the tea, tension started to rise in the room. Derek felt cornered with so many people in his and Stiles’ small room. He and Erica positioned Stiles in the middle of the bed so that both Erica and he could lay beside Stiles. Derek’s hand didn’t leave Stiles’ as he moved Adara to the side he was going to lay on, giving Erica more room. Lydia brought in the tea, handing it to Erica. 

Everyone watched her drink it. No one knew what to do or say as she finished it off, then lay down beside Stiles, her hands on him once more, securing the link. 

“Be safe,” Laura called out as Erica’s eyes began to droop closed. They waited. 

Derek watched Stiles for signs of change as Isaac put a hand on both Erica and Stiles. Derek sucked in a sharp breath when he realized that they were breathing at the same time, their chests rising and falling in tandem. 

“That has to be a good sign, right?” Derek asked, sitting up. Isaac nodded but didn’t say anything. He was concentrating, but on what Derek wasn’t sure. Lydia and Laura were in the kitchen, talking in hushed tones as the Sheriff sat in a chair that he had dragged in, his arms crossed, his gaze not leaving his son. 

Derek was surprised when the sun started rising. They had waited the entire night.

“Shouldn’t something have happened by now?” Lydia asked, breaking the silence. Derek glared at her, because he wasn’t ready to give up. Isaac let out an exasperated sigh as he pulled his hands from Erica and Stiles. Erica’s eyes fluttered open, which had Derek on his feet in seconds. She looked dazed, as if she wasn’t sure where she was. 

“Well?” Lydia asked, clearly impatient after a night of silence. Erica tugged at the amulet, throwing it to the ground. 

“There was nothing. It was just blackness and smoke.” 

“You didn’t speak with him?”

“There was no sign of Stiles or Adara.” 

Derek paced around the room, his jaw clenched. There was nothing he could do, nothing-

Derek stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the vial Isaac had given them the day before. He grabbed it, yanking hard so the twine would snap. 

As he did it, Stiles’ eyes shot wide open, inhaling loudly as if his heart had just restarted. Relief flooded through Derek at the sight of Stiles awake. The Sheriff stood by his side as they watched Isaac reach out, putting a hand to Stiles’ cheek, but pulled back immediately, holding his hand against his chest. 

“No one touch him.” 

“What do you mean, don’t touch him?” The Sheriff’s voice boomed. The little hope that Derek had felt moments before faded instantaneously. 

“Something is wrong,” Isaac said as he shook his hand. “His energy is wrong.” 

Everyone took a step back as Stiles sat up straight, his face showing no emotion, eyes staring straight forward. Laura was by Derek’s side, her hand on his arm. She let out a gasp as all of the lamps in the room went out. It was as though the wind had swept through the room, but the air had been completely still. The hair on Derek’s arms stood on end as Stiles turned his head, his eyes landing on Derek. 

“Thank you,” Stiles’ lips moved, but his voice wasn’t what came out. It was as if someone was using Stiles’ voice, a woman. Stiles sounded like a woman, but still himself at the same time. Derek knew that it was her, the one tormenting Stiles in his sleep. “For doing that, Changeling.” 

Derek took a step forward, his chest rising and falling quickly, his fists at his side. 

“What are you doing with him?” Derek demanded. His voice was shaking with anger. Stiles tilted his head to the side. It looked calculated, mechanical. It wasn’t natural. Adara lay unmoving beside him still, letting Derek know that this was not Stiles. Stiles was still trapped, somewhere in his own mind, in the darkness that Erica had seen. 

“He wasn’t listening to me, so I will tell you my message instead.” 

Derek was quiet as he waited, along with everyone else in the room. Lydia left the room, heading into the kitchen just as Stiles stood up, facing Derek and Laura. Derek swallowed down any sort of feelings he had at the fact that Stiles was naked before them. He tried not to think about them the day before, limbs tangled together as Stiles admitted how scared he was. Derek locked eyes with Stiles, with the woman in black that was using his body. 

“I am coming for you, along with the girl and boy changelings. You belong to me.”

“We belong to no one,” Laura chimed in. Stiles looked at her, a smirk forming slowly across his lips. “I will not go with you.” 

“Pity.” 

Derek didn’t have time to react as Stiles lunged forward, his hand reaching out for Laura’s throat. Laura screamed in pain. 

“Don’t touch him!” Isaac yelled out the reminder as Derek grabbed for his sister. Stiles was squeezing her throat, his eyes narrowed. Derek held onto Laura, attempting to pull her away but Stiles was strong, too strong to be human. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Derek shouted over Laura’s screams. He looked to Isaac for advice, but found him shaking his head in horror. Stiles’ eyes locked with Derek’s, then. 

“If you do not join me when I call, I will kill him like I am going to kill your sister.” 

Derek let out a choked sob as, with his other hand, Stiles plunged his hand into her chest. Derek didn’t think as he reached out to Stiles, grabbing his wrist. Pain, scorching pain shot up Derek’s arms. Isaac hadn’t lied when he said not to touch Stiles. Derek fell to his knees, now eye level with Stiles’ arm where it ripped out her heart. Derek screamed as she fell limply into his arms. 

“Join me,” Stiles said once more, Laura’s heart in his bloodied hand. Derek pulled Laura close to him, sobbing as Lydia ran to him. Within seconds, Stiles collapsed to the floor, the bloodied heart thudding to the ground beside him. Derek pushed Laura off of him, his entire torso covered in her blood, then made his way over to where Stiles lay motionless. Isaac was kneeling by him, not wanting to touch him in case the pain returned. Derek didn’t care, though. 

He grabbed Stiles’ shoulders, then shook him. There was no pain, no anything. Derek was numb at the loss of his sister. Stiles’s hands were red with her blood as he lay there unmoving. Derek buried his face against Stiles’ chest, letting out an agonizing scream, his fist beating against Stiles, nails raking against his skin. 

“Stiles,” Derek sobbed. “Wake up, please wake up.” 

Arms grabbed hold of Derek, hoisting him away from Stiles, trying to make him stand. The Sheriff and Erica had him, but he forced himself back to the floor, his eyes falling once more onto Laura’s still form. 

That was when he heard Adara whine, her tail moving out of the corner of his eye. Derek picked Stiles up, pulling his limp body close as he sat down unceremoniously in a pool of blood. Stiles’ eyes fluttered, opening slowly, his eyes rolling around. 

“Stiles,” Derek tried again, his voice completely shot, ragged with emotion. Stiles’ eyes opened, finding Derek’s. Immediately, as if he knew, Stiles started crying, his hands shooting up to cup Derek’s face. When Stiles saw the blood he curled in on himself. 

“I killed her,” Stiles sobbed. “I killed your sister.” 

Derek held Stiles in his arms as he watched Stiles’ father, Isaac, and Erica move Laura’s body. Lydia began an attempt at cleaning the blood. The boards that made up the floor would forever be reddened by it. Adara hopped down from the bed, crawling onto Stiles’ chest, pressing herself up against Derek. 

He felt numb, listening to Stiles cry, tears falling onto his bare chest as Adara licked them up. 

“It wasn’t you,” Derek said, his voice sounding hollow. “It was her, she did it.” Stiles curled in against him even more. Derek hoisted Stiles up into a sitting position. Stiles faced Derek, his legs wrapping around him, his head burying itself in Derek’s shoulder, arms wrapping around him as Stiles held on for dear life, clinging to Derek. Adara squeezed herself onto Stiles’ lap, not caring if she was going to be squished between the two of them, her fur covered in blood. 

“I couldn’t do anything,” Stiles murmured in Derek’s ear, his voice weak and broken. “I could see everything. She moved my arms, my feet. She made me speak-”

“You don’t need to talk about it,” Derek told him, swallowing back his own tears. Stiles was silent, then, the rise and fall of his chest was the only way Derek knew that Stiles was with him. 

“I felt everything.” 

Derek closed his eyes, wanting to get away. He wanted his sister back, he wanted Stiles’ dreams to stop, he wanted to run through the woods as a wolf. A fresh wave of emotions washed over Derek when he realized he would never run with her again. 

He placed a hand on Stiles’ neck, moving it so he could press his face in the nook between Stiles’ shoulder and his neck, breathe him in. Stiles’ scent was mixed with that of blood and sweat. It made Derek’s stomach churn to have the scent of blood paired with Stiles’. He didn’t move an inch, neither of them did, as they held onto each other. Derek listened to Stiles sniff back his tears, felt his muscles move as he wiped away at his eyes over and over again. 

“Stiles,” his father’s voice broke out into the silence, “let’s get you cleaned up, son.” Derek looked up to find the Sheriff standing over them, like he was going to help get Stiles to his feet. Stiles’ grip around Derek tightened, his head shaking. 

“No.” 

“Stiles-”

“It’s okay,” Derek said, clearing his throat afterwards. “We’ll clean up later.” Stiles’ father nodded his head, looking exhausted. 

“We’re going to get some sleep,” Erica called out from the kitchen. “Then have a burial.” Derek’s closed his eyes at her words as he bit down on his lip to keep it from quivering. He nodded his head in understanding. 

Derek and Stiles were left alone, then. They didn’t move until the sun was higher in the sky, around noon. Somehow they ended up laying on the floor, limbs tangled and wrapped around each other with Adara between them. Neither of them had said a word. 

“Blood’s itchy,” Stiles spoke up, finally. His fingers were scratching at his skin, flaking dried blood coming off of him, getting under his nails. Derek sat up, making a face at his covered torso, at Adara’s matted fur. The stench was unbearable. They were covered in Laura’s blood. Stiles’ cheeks were stained with blood and tears from him wiping at his face. Derek ran a thumb over a cheekbone, smearing it as he tried to get it off. 

“A bath,” Derek murmured as he forced himself to stand. He felt numb as he made his way into the kitchen to boil water. When he walked back into their bedroom he tried to ignore the bloodstains covering the floor by looking at Stiles, his markings blending in with the dried blood. Derek had never realized that they had been the color of blood before, had never made the connection. Derek picked Adara up, bringing her into the kitchen. 

He washed her first, letting his hands move through the motions without thinking. Normally, Adara would be playful in the water, splashing around and nipping at his fingers. Not now, though. She wasn’t even looking at him. Her tail was still, her ears down, her eyes closed. Derek frowned at the distance, but said nothing. 

Eventually, Stiles made his way out of the bedroom, grabbing a sponge and wiping himself down before getting into the tub. Derek did the same, peeling his pants off, tossing them to the side. He would need to throw them away later. Stiles reached out, cleaning Derek off in silence before Derek got in the small tub. Stiles rested his head against Derek’s shoulder immediately as Derek lifted Stiles’ hands, looking at them. 

As if self-conscious of them, Stiles yanked them away, plunging them under the water. Derek felt tears dropping onto his chest, warm and wet. Stiles sniffed. 

“I can’t do this,” he said with a swallow. Derek grabbed the sponge and the soap, then began washing Stiles again. “I’m so tired.” 

“I know.”

Derek wished that Stiles could sleep, but they both knew that as soon as he did, something else could happen. They didn’t know when she was coming, when she would next attack. Derek didn’t want to think about it, think about how she threatened to kill Stiles. But if she killed Stiles that would be the same as killing him. Basically, he had to go with her or they would both be killed. He didn’t want to say it out loud, though. He knew that Stiles wouldn’t be able to handle it, not when he had just killed Derek’s sister. 

Derek let out a low groan, his eyes closing once more, as if keeping them open was too difficult, too much to bear. Stiles took the sponge, then, and began slowly running it over Derek’s body, adding soap to it, massaging it into his skin, his fingers trailing over Derek as if memorizing his every muscle. It didn’t surprise Derek when he felt Stiles’ lips against the skin of his neck. It wasn’t heated or sexual, but comforting. Derek moaned, his own hands sliding down Stiles’ back, pulling him closer once more. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles gasped out. Derek sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head as he let it out slowly. 

“It wasn’t you,” Derek reminded Stiles once more. “You couldn’t do anything.”

Stiles sat up, pushing himself away from Derek. His face was closed off, his jaw set tight. 

“I’m not letting that happen again,” Stiles snapped. “She won’t control me again.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this chapter I had [Ancora Qui](http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Havoc/85039245) on repeat.

Derek didn’t sleep. The sun was high in the sky as he laid in bed with Stiles and Adara. The three of them hadn’t said a word in hours as they comforted each other. Derek’s hand hung limply in Stiles’ as Adara curled against Stiles, who was curled up with his head buried in Adara’s fur. Derek watched them both breathe, his mind numb. It was as if it had overloaded, had shut down completely. 

Stiles’ eyes were open, staring off into nothing. Derek wanted to tell Stiles over and over that it wasn’t his fault, what happened to Laura, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Stiles would feel guilty no matter what Derek said, and that hurt. There was nothing that Derek could do about it. 

There was a knock at the door, which made Stiles jump. Derek sat up, squeezing his hand as he got off the bed. Derek grabbed a pair of pants, pulling them on before he made his way to the door. He made sure to ignore the blood that covered the floor, stained there forever. Derek ran his fingers through his hair, letting out an audible sigh as he opened the door. Stiles’ father was there, his face solemn, empathetic. 

“The burial is at sunset,” he said. Derek nodded once, his grip on the door tightening. It would be the first burial in the village. They hadn’t even picked out a cemetery yet. Derek felt his eyes watering once more and tried to look upward to keep the tears from falling. It didn’t work. 

“Where?” He asked, his voice cracking. He wiped at his eyes, then sniffed. 

“We decided to use the meadow just outside the gates,” he told Derek. Derek looked into the house, where Stiles was still in bed. It was the meadow that Stiles had been walking to every night. 

“We’ll be there at sundown,” Derek replied. 

“Melissa is making food, plenty for everyone for afterward.”

“Thank you.” 

With that, Derek walked back inside and crawled into bed. Stiles was looking at him, his face set in a frown. 

“What did my dad want?” 

“Funeral at sundown,” Derek told him as he pet Adara. She let out a growl, which made Derek flinch. She was still angry with him for something that he hadn’t done. In Stiles’ dream he had ripped his throat, and Adara had seen it happen, felt it. Stiles licked his lips, tugging at Adara’s fur as he looked at Derek. 

“Addie, stop it.” 

She growled again. Stiles pushed at her. “Stop it!” He screamed. “He didn’t do it. He didn’t bite me. If you think he bit me then I am the one that killed Laura. I killed her, is that what you think?” Stiles was sitting up, his chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. “You think I did it? And that Derek hurt me?” 

“Stiles-” Derek soothed, his hand on Stiles’ bare thigh. Stiles eyes were wide with anger. Adara was shaking, her face buried in the sheets. Stiles pushed Derek’s hand away, standing up. 

“I don’t want her growling at you. I don’t want her biting. I want us to be okay, I want to be alright.” Stiles frantically pulled on a pair of pants and grabbed a shirt. Derek watched him from the bed, worried about where Stiles was going. Stiles stopped moving when he caught sight of the floor. He stood there, unmoving, his lip caught on his teeth. 

“We are okay,” Derek assured him. Stiles looked up at Derek, his eyes wide, jaw hanging open. Stiles held out his hand, showing Derek the ribbon tied around Stiles’ wrist. The ribbon Laura had given to Stiles. Derek scooted down the bed, grabbing hold of his wrist, kissing it as he pulled Stiles close to him. Stiles’ hands immediately went to Derek’s hair, fingers tangling in it. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, pressing his face into Stiles’ stomach. “You’re okay, too.” 

Stiles shook his head then. Derek couldn’t help but look up at him, his hand sliding up Stiles’ side then tugging Stiles down onto his knees by grabbing onto his arm. Stiles fell easily, his head resting against Derek’s chest. 

“Adara,” Stiles said, his hand patting the bed, wanting her to come forward. Derek felt her sit beside him, her tail brushing against his back. Stiles showed Adara his palm, the bond turned upwards for her to see. “What does this mean?” 

Derek held his breath, his lips pressing against Stiles’ head. Adara whined, her ears low, her paw on Stiles’ palm. 

“It means we are one with Derek,” she whispered, leaning down and licking it. Stiles shuddered as he pet her head. 

“And what does that mean?” Stiles asked her. 

“That he won’t hurt us.” 

Derek closed his eyes, relief flooding his mind. Stiles nodded his head. 

“Derek won’t hurt us. She can torment us all she wants, but if I only know one thing, it is that Derek would never hurt me or you.” Derek couldn’t help himself as he cupped Stiles’ face with his hands, pulling him up for a kiss. Stiles moaned into it, his mouth opening for Derek as they fell back onto the bed with Stiles laying on top of Derek. Derek reached out, then, for Adara. Their kisses slowed, Stiles’ hands mapping their way up and down Derek’s sides as Derek’s fingers raked through Adara’s fur. Stiles panted against Derek’s mouth at Derek touching Adara. It always made him hard, how connected Stiles was to Adara, how just petting her made Stiles practically writhe around with need. Now, though, it wasn’t about sex. It was about being close to them, about the bond and how it could never be broken. They were one, the three of them together. 

Derek tasted the salt of tears in his mouth before he realized that Stiles was crying. Derek stopped kissing him, his thumb wiping Stiles’ tears. Stiles shook his head, wiping them himself as he sat up, his hands on Derek’s chest as he straddled him. Derek’s hands fell to Stiles’ thighs as they collected themselves. Stiles let out a laugh as he sucked in a breath, his head still shaking. 

“I can’t,” he said between shortened breaths. “I can’t stop it from repeating in my head.” Derek nodded his head in understanding because he was having the same issue. Seeing Stiles’s hand reach out and grab Laura, to feel her die in his arms. Derek shuddered beneath Stiles. He knew it hadn’t been Stiles, that it had been _her_ , that the Stiles before him was actually his. His Stiles was broken, beaten, and scarred. He loved Stiles, he loved Adara, and he knew deep down that the woman in black, the dreamwalker, was coming for him and when she got there, he would have to go. Because if he didn’t, Stiles would be killed and he would have to watch. 

And that was something that Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to do. Not if he had a choice in the matter. Stiles would remain alive. 

“I’m not sleeping again,” Stiles murmured. He was looking out the window, his fingers picking mindlessly at the sheets beside him. Derek slid his hands up and down Stiles’ thighs, letting him talk. Stiles let out a deep sigh. “I can’t let her do that again.”

“It was the amulet,” Derek pointed out. “The control was because you couldn’t dream.” Stiles looked down at Derek, his brow furrowed. 

“I don’t want her to use you against me again.”

“And I don’t want her to do the same,” Derek replied. Stiles snapped his jaw shut at that, his shoulders sagging. Derek groaned, because he hadn’t meant to say that. “You can’t not sleep.” 

The sun was starting to go down, and they hadn’t begun to get ready for the burial. Derek was the first to move, rolling Stiles onto his back so that he could get off the bed. Derek felt Stiles’ eyes watch him move around the room. He put on a clean shirt, one that Laura had dyed for him. He laid out a shirt for Stiles, placing it by him on the bed, and a leather vest. Stiles looked at the shirt he was currently wearing, then frowned. 

“Wear this one,” Derek said, pointing at the one he laid out. “Laura gave it to you.” It only felt right, to wear things that Laura had given them, had dyed for them. He wasn’t wearing black to her burial, he would wear her colors instead. Stiles changed his shirt, put on the vest, then went in search for his boots that were made of the same leather as the vest. They were high, past his calf. Derek had brought them to him from the market some time ago, before the nightmares. Derek couldn’t help but give himself a small smile as he finished dressing himself. 

Without thinking, as Derek passed Adara on the bed, he pet her. Halfway through the caress he remembered her growls, the feel of her teeth in his flesh, her anger. Derek withdrew his hand. As he did it, Stiles’ head snapped up, looking between the two of them. He had felt the sudden removal of Derek’s hand. 

“What?” Stiles asked, accusation dripping from his voice as he narrowed his eyes at Adara. Adara shook her head, sitting up. 

“I didn’t do anything,” she snapped. “He stopped petting me.”   
Derek closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to be late.” 

On their way out the door Derek grabbed an oil lamp along with a few matches for their return. They walked in silence with Stiles’ hand in Derek’s, Adara walking only a few feet in front of them. It made Derek’s heart heavy that she wasn’t running around them like she normally did. 

As they walked, Derek thought about what it would be like to have a daemon. He wondered what his would be, and Laura’s. He couldn’t see his daemon as anything but a wolf, but Laura’s could be anything. He saw an otter, or maybe a bluebird, something bright and vibrant. But then Derek thought about Laura, dying in his arms. He thought about how he didn’t have to see her daemon disappear before his eyes, along with her. 

Without realizing it, Derek had stopped walking, the hand that had been holding onto Stiles’ was covering his mouth, his eyes closed as he tried to rein in his emotions. Stiles’ hand was on the back of his neck, another on his cheek. Blurry eyed, Derek looked at Stiles, shaking his head slightly. Stiles still didn’t know they were going to the meadow, Derek hadn’t told him. 

“The meadow,” Derek managed to say. “That is going to be the cemetery.” Stiles’ hands dropped. Derek watched Stiles wrap them around himself, his lip catching between his teeth as his eyes cast downward at Adara. 

“There is something I haven’t told you,” Stiles mumbled. Derek held his breath, his mind reeling at what else Stiles could have kept from him. “The reason I went to the meadow at night.” 

“What is it?” Derek asked. 

“It’s my mom,” Stiles said, finally looking up at Derek. He looked young, vulnerable. He didn’t look like the Stiles who could defend himself against the Magisterium. “I’ve been hearing her voice.” 

“The woman in black-”

“No,” Stiles said, interrupting him. “Not her, I mean my real mother. She has been warning me.” Stiles’ brow furrowed, his fingers twisting as he wrung them together. “I hear her at night.” 

“Warning you?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded. It was clear that Stiles was afraid of telling Derek, hearing voices wasn’t normal but then again, having nightmares attempt to drown you only to find out they are real wasn’t normal either. Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand once more, confirmation that he wasn’t going to push him away. Stiles visibly relaxed, leaning into Derek as they started walking once more. 

“Yes. I hear her easiest in the meadow. Before the nightmares got bad, hearing her calmed me down. Now everything is just... “ Stiles trailed off, not finishing his sentence. Instead, he squeezed Derek’s hand. 

“Thanks,” Derek said. “For telling me about hearing her. I was wondering why you kept going there.” If it wasn’t getting dark, Derek probably would have seen Stiles blush. It seemed like something that would happen before. Now, Derek wasn’t so sure. 

Before he realized it they were at the meadow. Everyone was there already, standing around a hole dug in the ground. Derek wasn’t sure who had done it, and so fast, but his guess was Jackson, Danny, and Scott by their dishevelment. Suddenly, Derek didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want anyone to hug him, to tell him that they were sorry. He didn’t want them to look at Stiles as if he had been the one to do it. It hadn’t been him, it had been _her_. The faceless, nameless one who was ruining their safe haven. Derek put his arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him close. Derek listened to Stiles’ father talk about Laura, about her baking and dyeing of fabric, about how helpful she had been, how her family had helped keep him and Stiles, and his mother, safe. 

Derek was numb. His sister was gone. There would be no more bread, no more smiles, no more of her laughter. She hadn’t wanted to get into anything with the Magisterium, had wanted to live in peace. Derek should have left her with Deaton in his village. He should never have brought her here to Evenstar. But it was supposed to have been safe, she shouldn’t have died. It was needless. 

Derek knew he was crying, he could feel tears, warm and wet, falling down his face. He told himself it was alright, that he still had Stiles, but at the moment he just felt hollow. He had no family left now. He should have protected her. The Sheriff asked if Derek wanted to say anything, to add to Laura’s story. Derek shook his head. He had no words, he couldn’t speak. Everyone slowly took a turn with grabbing a handful of dirt, tossing it into the hole. 

Derek and Stiles were last. Her body was covered, wrapped in cloth. It was colored like the rainbow. They had obviously taken pieces from her stock to wrap her in. Derek held his hand, full of grave dirt, over the hole, dropping it in. He shut his eyes, thinking about how Stiles was all that he had left. Standing over his sister’s grave, he vowed to keep Stiles safe, no matter what. 

The woman in black would not kill Stiles, not if Derek had anything to do with it. 

Derek lit the lamp before they walked to the inn, everyone together. Derek wasn’t hungry, but he knew Melissa had worked hard to prepare the food so he wasn’t going to pass it up. As they walked, Stiles had his arms wrapped around Derek’s arm, his head leaning against Derek’s shoulder. They sat at the large table in the inn, Derek at the head of the table which was usually the Sheriff’s spot. Stiles didn’t touch the food, his fingers remained wrapped around Derek’s on the tabletop. 

Derek ate one-handed, not wanting to break the hold Stiles had on him. It was keeping him grounded. He felt exhausted and totally spent. To think that within the last twenty-four hours they had been to market, brought Isaac to town, then Stiles had been possessed, resulting in Laura’s death. Derek felt like he wasn’t aware of anything going on at the table. He heard voices, Stiles’ adding into the conversation sparingly, but he wasn’t able to grasp anything of what was being said. It sounded jumbled, as if he had something covering his ears to keep him from communicating. Derek watched Adara nibble on a few scraps that Stiles had given her off of his plate. 

He didn’t want to think about Stiles’ dream, the reason Adara bit him. It seemed so long ago, but at the same time like it had just happened. Derek had killed Stiles in the dream, ripped his throat out and clawed up his chest. Derek knew deep down that he would never do that to Stiles, he wouldn’t be able to, but he also knew that dreams were a powerful thing. Powerful enough to take control of Stiles and use his body against him. Derek closed his eyes, unable to keep them open despite being surrounded by their small village. 

Voices faded into nothingness, the feeling of Stiles’ hands in his disappeared and left him feeling empty and alone. Laura’s screams rang through his ears as he looked down to see her blood on his hands. Adara growled at him, her fur standing straight up, her teeth snapping in anger. Wind blew around him, Moira’s voice carried on the back of it as it swirled around him. 

_“The way is clear,”_ the wind told him. Derek spun around slowly. The air was thick like a fog, like black smoke. He was unable to talk. He moved his mouth, but nothing came out. He scratched at his throat, gasping for air in an attempt to scream. _“To save him you must go with her.”_

Derek raged, his fists clenched at his sides as he turned his head around at the sound of wolves howling. It sounded like an entire pack of them that surrounded him. As fast as the howling started, it stopped. The woman in black stood before him, mere feet ahead of him. Derek’s gut sank at the sight of her. 

“We finally meet,” she said, her voice not at all like Moira’s. Derek’s eyes widened, because she was using Laura’s voice against him. Derek stood there, enveloped in darkening smoke, unable to move or speak. The woman in black walked around him, looking him over, inspecting him. “The bond on your hand helped with that.”

Derek thought about how he was sleeping, how he and Stiles were holding hands. He suddenly wished Stiles to take his hand away. Laura’s laughter filled the dense air, which made him tear up. She shouldn’t be using Laura’s voice, it hurt too much, the pain was too fresh. 

“When the time comes, Derek, will you do the noble thing and save him?” She asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. Derek fell to his knees in pain, although no sound came out, he was screaming. 

Derek woke up to Stiles’ hands cupping his face, a knowing look in his eyes. He knew Derek had seen her. Around them the table was silent, everyone looking at Derek with concern. It was Stiles who looked around, then got Derek to his feet. 

“We have to go,” he said, his hand clasped with Derek’s. 

“Stiles-” 

“Not now, I need to talk to him alone,” Stiles interrupted his father. “This has to end.” His voice was resolute, firm. Stiles had the oil lamp in one hand as they made their way back to their cabin with Adara leading the way at an almost run. Derek didn’t try to speak. The vision of her in his mind made him shiver. She was what had been haunting Stiles every time he had shut his eyes, and she was coming _for him_. 

Stiles sat Derek down at their small kitchen table, setting the lamp down so that he could light a fire in the fireplace. Stiles shrugged off his vest, then loosened the ties at his wrists and collar so that he was more comfortable. Then his hands were on Derek, touching his face, his neck, his arm. 

“What happened?” Stiles asked. 

“She had Laura’s voice,” Derek let out, surprised at the sound of his own voice. Stiles’ face fell. “There were wolves, and black smoke and she was using Laura’s voice.” Stiles’ lips were on Derek’s within the blink of an eye. Derek breathed him in but did not react otherwise. He didn’t have it in him. Stiles held onto Derek, shadows from the fire dancing around his face. 

“What did she say to you?” Stiles asked. Derek shrugged his shoulders as Stiles placed his hands on Derek’s thighs. Derek thought about Moira’s words, about how he had to go with the Dreamwalker when she came for him. He couldn’t tell Stiles. In order to save Stiles, he had to lie to him. 

“She told me that she got into my dream by our bond, we were holding hands,” Derek told him, admitting that much. Stiles’ retracted his hands from where they had been, wrapping his arms around himself as he furrowed his brow. 

“She is getting stronger,” Stiles said as he stood. “We have to figure out a way to stop her.” Derek sat, his gaze following Stiles as he paced around the room, his fingers grabbing at his hair, tugging as he thought. “Perhaps Isaac has another way of blocking her-”

“No,” Derek spoke up, shaking his head. “No, not after what happened before.”

“We have to try something,” Stiles pleaded, his voice rising with each word. “I refuse to stand by and let her control me, let her weasel her way into your dreams as well. I am not allowing her to do it any longer. We have to take risks.” 

“I will not risk losing you over this,” Derek shouted. Stiles looked at him like he had been punched. 

“You’re planning on going with her,” Stiles accused, his shoulders sagging, his eyes brimming with tears. “You are, aren’t you?” Derek looked away from him, shaking his head but said nothing. Stiles had his hands over his face, trying to hide his emotions from Derek. Derek felt his own heart breaking at the sight of Stiles so affected by it. 

“No,” Derek heard himself say. “No, that isn’t what I am saying.” Lies, all lies. Derek swallowed, licking his lips as he stood up and walked over to Stiles, pulling him close. Stiles let him, his hands tugging on the fabric of Derek’s shirt. “I just don’t want her to control you again, I’m afraid that if we try anything else she will find a way.” 

“I am not sleeping until I make sure she can’t get into my mind,” Stiles said resolutely. “I won’t give her the opportunity.” 

“Stiles, you can’t do that to yourself. You have to sleep, you’ll die-”

Stiles stepped back from Derek. 

“I’m going to speak with Isaac,” he said. “Alone.” 

“Don’t leave me tonight,” Derek pleaded. “I need you.” The loss of Laura was still so fresh, along with the nightmare. Derek didn’t want to sleep without Stiles by his side, without Adara in his arms. He could barely keep his eyes open, though. Grief was exhausting. He felt it creeping into his bones. Stiles kissed Derek again, then again. 

“I will stay,” Stiles told him. “Until you fall asleep. That’s my compromise. I need to speak with Isaac, first. To tell him I’m planning on coming back.” Stiles grabbed the oil lamp, looking to Adara, then back at Derek. “I won’t be long.” 

Derek sat on the edge of the bed as he waited for Stiles and Adara to return. He had changed his clothes, wearing only a thin pair of linen pants as he sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Moira’s words haunted him. He had to go with her, to save Stiles. 

There was no other way. 

Stiles returned, walking out of his clothes as he entered the room. Boots tossed aside, shirt thrown to the floor, Stiles crawled into bed, tugging Derek with him. Adara, too, joined them by curling up between them. 

“And?” Derek asked. Stiles sighed beside him. 

“He said he has some ideas, but he won’t be ready until tomorrow morning. He told me to come back then.” 

“Hmm,” Derek hummed as Stiles ran his fingers through Derek’s hair. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Derek drifted off to sleep, trying to hold tight to the memory of having Stiles and Adara in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

The bed was warm and comfortable when Derek woke up. He didn’t want to leave the safety of the sheets and well-worn quilt. He felt empty, hollow at the loss of his sister and opening his eyes would be reaffirming that it all hadn’t been a dream. He didn’t want to get out of bed and see her blood soaked into the floorboards, forever a reminder of what happened. The air in the room felt stagnant. It was too quiet.

Derek moved his arm, searching for Adara. The bed beside him was warm but empty. Regretfully, Derek opened his eyes. The room was bright, the sun coming in from the window. Noises came from the kitchen, mutterings and hushed tones. Derek got up, his eyes unable to stop from looking at the stain as he made his way to the kitchen. Stiles was dressed, except for a shirt that hung over a chair that Adara sat in as she watched him butter toast. Stiles looked up when Derek walked into the room. 

“You weren’t supposed to get up until I brought you breakfast,” Stiles said with a fake pout. “I even went and got eggs, fresh ones.” It wasn’t until then that Derek saw that Stiles had an entire plate of food prepared: eggs, a peeled orange, honeyed ham, and the toast that was currently in Stiles’ hand. 

“I’m not hungry,” Derek said as he sat across from Adara, his hands resting on the table. Stiles’ face fell. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” Stiles said, putting the butter knife down then leaning against the table with both hands, his head hung low between his shoulders. “I told you I would be-”

“Stiles, it’s fine. Thank you for breakfast,” Derek said, forcing a smile. He reached for a piece of orange, though his stomach turned at the thought of food. Tension was in the air as Stiles watched Derek eat the orange. His lips were pursed, fingers strumming against the tabletop as he looked on. 

“I didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Derek admitted. Stiles let out a huff of air, then grabbed a fork. He began eating the eggs he had scrambled. He offered Derek a fork full, though, as he chewed a bite. Derek leaned in, opening his mouth for it. Stiles managed a small, triumphant smile as Derek chewed, then swallowed it. “Have you gone to Isaac’s yet?” Stiles shook his head no. 

“It is still early, and I wanted this,” Stiles motioned at the breakfast with a flailing arm, “to make you feel better.” Stiles shrugged his shoulders, admitting to himself that his idea was flawed. Breakfast would not cure him, would not bring Laura back. Stiles wiped his hands against his pants, his nails scraping against the leather. Derek wondered if Stiles still saw red, saw the blood beneath his fingernails. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Derek asked. Stiles shook his head again. 

“I want to talk to Isaac alone.” 

Derek diverted his attention, not wanting to show how much he wanted to be there when Isaac talked Stiles into another half-cocked idea. 

“Later, when you get back, I want to go for a walk.” 

“That sounds good, to get out of the house,” Stiles said as he finished the toast, pushing the rest of the eggs towards Derek. “Addie and I won’t be long.” Derek nodded, watching Stiles put his shirt on, covering his markings. Before Stiles left, he kissed Derek, his hand cupping Derek’s cheek. It was longer than a normal goodbye kiss, almost open-mouthed, desperate. Derek was the one to end it. Stiles’ hand fell from his face slowly, Stiles’ breath against his skin. Adara made sure to lick at Derek’s toes before they walked out the door. 

When they left, Derek scrubbed the floor in the bedroom until his shoulders were sore. The soapy water he used had become tinged with red twice over before he gave up. By the time Stiles and Adara returned, Derek had started to whittle on the front porch, not bothering to change clothes. He knew that if they were to go on a walk, he would want to run as the wolf. 

As Stiles approached, Derek noticed that he was carrying a basket. When he stepped onto the porch he showed Derek what he had brought. 

“Melissa sent me back with dinner,” Stiles told him. “There is enough here for tomorrow as well, so we don’t need to go anywhere, cook anything.” Derek grunted, going back to his whittling. “What are you making?”

“How did it go with Isaac?” Derek asked, not answering Stiles’ question. He wanted to know what happened, what Isaac had talked Stiles into believing would work. Stiles shut his mouth, his eyes narrowing. 

“We have some ideas, but they are all dangerous.” Derek nodded, knowing as much. “He has research to do.” 

“Oh, so this time he is going to actually research before-”

“Derek, stop,” Stiles snapped. He walked into the cabin, putting the basket of food down. “I am not fighting about this.” 

“I wasn’t fighting,” Derek said, standing up. “I just want you to be safe, that’s all I want.” Stiles reappeared in the doorway, leaning against it with his head tilted to one side, his lip caught between his teeth. 

“I love you, you know that right?” 

Derek’s brow furrowed at Stiles’ admission. It wasn’t something they told each other often, both knowing full well what the bond meant, the mark on their palms. 

“Yes, and I you,” Derek said. “What-”

“I want us to be free,” Stiles stressed. “I don’t want to be afraid to fall asleep. I don’t want to wake up to find that I’ve killed you, or anyone else. I never want to be that helpless again. Can’t you see that?” 

“Yes,” Derek admitted. “I want you free as well, but I don’t want you hurt because Isaac’s magic doesn’t work the way he intends it to. He didn’t pull through before, what makes you think it will work a second time?”

“Because that is all I have, Derek. That is all I can do, it is my last hope at ridding myself of _her_.” Stiles said the word with such vehemence that it made Derek shut his eyes as he remembered her hand on his shoulder, telling him what he had to do. What Moira told him he had to do. 

“Alright,” Derek said. “If he is sure he knows of something...” 

“He said he would let me know once he was sure,” Stiles told him. “But for now, our walk.” Stiles walked back into the cabin, grabbing the basket, a blanket, and a pair of pants for Derek. Derek arched an eyebrow at him. “Picnic,” Stiles supplied easily. “I know you want to run, so run.” 

And so Derek ran as the wolf. He ran so fast, not thinking as he headed up their normal route into the woods. He circled back around until Stiles came back into view, Adara running her usual circles around him, like everything was normal. Derek slowed down enough to tackle Adara to the ground playfully, nipping at her ears. She scrambled, pawing at him, yelping enough so that Derek would let her go. Adara darted away, knowing full well that Derek would chase after her. He did. She couldn’t go far from Stiles, so it was easy to pin her to the ground once more. When Adara tired, Derek let her ride on his back as they treaded alongside Stiles. Stiles was silent as he hiked, his hand brushing Derek’s head, fingers catching on the fur every so often. 

Derek could feel their bond more when he was the wolf. He felt a sense of belonging, of the need to protect and to cherish. He wanted to bury his head in Stiles’ lap, to lick Adara, to have Stiles’ fingers digging into his fur. He craved closeness, the bond. He whined, looking up at Stiles, hoping that he understood. 

“Time to stop?” Stiles asked. Derek sat as soon as Stiles suggested it. Adara fell to the ground, rolling over immediately, paws up in the air. Derek snuffled along her belly, letting her teeth catch as she tried to gnaw at his snout. 

“I want to nap,” Adara told them as Stiles laid out the blanket, then sat on it. Derek transformed into himself, picking Adara up, tossing her into the air. “Down! Put me down!” Derek kissed her fur, pulling her close to his chest. He looked down at Stiles, who was watching him. 

“You know,” Stiles said with Derek’s pants laying in his lap, “as much as I love the view, I think pants would be a good idea.” 

Derek laughed at Stiles’ cheek as he put Adara down in order to get dressed. Derek sat down, kissing Stiles first on the forehead, then the cheek, the chin, then finally on the lips as his fingers brushed along Stiles’ face. Derek closed his eyes, pushing all thoughts of the woman in black and Stiles’ mother from his mind. This walk, this picnic was about him, Stiles, and Adara. It wasn’t about what was to come, what had happened. 

Stiles fed Derek grapes. It started slowly, one at a time with Derek licking at Stiles’ fingers until Adara grabbed one from Stiles’ hand, breaking the trance that Stiles and Derek had fallen into. That led to Derek tossing grapes into the air for Adara to catch, which then had Stiles doing the same for Derek. 

“You are way too good at that,” Stiles laughed, popping a few grapes into his own mouth. 

“What else is in there?” Derek asked, leaning over Stiles’ outstretched legs to look into the basket. He was interrupted by Stiles’ hands on him, guiding him towards Stiles’ lips. Derek fell into the kiss, draping himself over Stiles’ body. Stiles lay back on the blanket as they kissed lazily, taking their time, breathing each other in as their hands trailed over their bodies. Derek’s hands slipped beneath Stiles’ shirt, fingers dragging over taut muscle, raking through the coarse hair that lead underneath Stiles’ leather pants. 

Derek’s hand rubbed at Stiles over the leather, eliciting a moan from Stiles, his legs spreading automatically so that Derek fit between them better. They both broke from the kiss at the sound of Adara pawing through the basket, attempting to find something to eat. Stiles made an ‘oof’ sound as Derek rolled off of him, his hand returning to Stiles’ stomach. 

“Adara isn’t the only one who is hungry,” Derek murmured against Stiles’ ear. Stiles closed his eyes, a contented smile played across his face as he lay there. Derek ate, giving Adara part of his sandwich as he let Stiles rest, knowing he hadn’t slept all night. He knew Stiles wasn’t asleep because his breathing wasn’t even enough, his fingers moving every so often, unable to keep still. Knowing that he was relaxed enough to close his eyes made Derek curl up next to him, letting the forest’s noises fill his ears.

“This reminds me of when we were trying to find Lydia,” Stiles said, breaking Derek out of his daze. He had almost been asleep with Stiles’ fingers intertwined with his own. “Us and the woods, hiking endlessly, the cabin we found-”

“The cave,” Derek added, his lips pressing against Stiles’ cheek. Stiles hummed, twisting his body so that he was facing Derek, on his side. Adara crawled in between them. Derek wanted to stay like that forever as he watched Stiles’ eyelids grow heavy. Derek thought about how much danger they had been in, how lucky it was for them to stumble into Erica and Boyd’s life, how they had survived before. 

Maybe they could do it again. 

“No,” Stiles said, pushing against Derek, his eyes opening. “I can’t go to sleep.” Stiles sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “I’d love to, you know, fall asleep here and just forget about everything that is happening, but I can’t. I know as soon as I do she’ll be there, waiting for me.” 

Derek reached out for Stiles, linking their fingers together. 

“Being out here does feel a little bit like forgetting,” Derek admitted. “But having you close feels right.” Stiles gave Derek a small smile, leaning down, capturing his lips. The kiss was soft, chaste. It made Derek yearn for more. 

“We’ll always be by each other’s sides.”

Derek said nothing to that, he couldn’t. Instead, he sat up, kissing Stiles’ jaw, his moles that dotted his face and neck. He wanted to remember all of them, every last one of them. 

“We should head back before nightfall.”

Derek led the way back down the mountain, hopping from rock to rock gracefully. His senses were heightened whenever he changed from human to wolf. He could sense Stiles’ heartbeat, along with Adara’s, as they followed him. He paid close attention to both, as well as to their surroundings. 

They were barely a half mile from the village when Derek felt a shift in the air. It had his fur standing on edge, his head snapping up, his nose sticking into the air, trying to find what had changed. He looked back towards Adara, to see if she sensed anything. 

“What is it?” Stiles called out. Derek shook his head, snuffling out a response that meant he wasn’t sure. 

Then the howling started. 

Derek was still for a moment, the howls registering as his ears moved. He knew those howls from his nightmare. They were the very same, sending shivers up and down his spine. Without thinking, he set off in a run to the dismay of Stiles, who screamed after him to wait. Derek couldn’t wait because he knew that they had run out of time, that the woman in black had come for him. 

He wasn’t going to allow Stiles to die in his arms like Laura had. 

Derek ran into the village, following the howls to the edge of the village where he found Boyd and Erica, along with the Sheriff. There were five wolves with their teeth bared just on the opposite side of the wooden fence, the ward. Derek growled. 

Beside him, Erica placed a hand on his head. 

“Where is Stiles?” She asked. Derek’s ears fell, letting out a whine. He had left him. He had needed to see what the threat was before he allowed him to come into harm’s way. They were stuck on the other side of the fence, unable to pass through the barrier. Derek needed to get back to Stiles, in case he wasn’t yet within the confines of the village. 

Derek left Erica and Boyd, backtracking until he found Stiles, knife in hand and panting. He had run the entire way. As soon as Stiles saw Derek, his face set in a harsh frown. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Stiles managed to gasp as he leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. “You scared me.” 

Derek ushered Stiles towards their cabin. Once inside, he changed back into a human. 

“Wolves, there are wolves at the edge of town,” Derek said as he ran his fingers through his hair. He pulled on loose fitting pants, so that he could change back at a moments notice. Stiles watched him in silence. He was standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. 

“We have to go there, then.”

Stiles said it as if he could do something about them. 

The sun was just above the horizon, steadily setting, as they approached the gate. Allison and Scott joined the group, along with Isaac. One of the wolves was pacing back and forth, its eyes seemingly never leaving Derek. 

“What should we do?” Scott asked. Allison arched an eyebrow, pulling out her bow, knocking back an arrow. 

“Are you sure that is wise?” Stiles asked her. 

“I am not about to let them enter Evenstar,” she said as she let the arrow loose. The arrow disappeared into thin air as soon as it passed over the gate. Derek wasn’t at all surprised. He figured they wouldn’t be able to harm the wolves while on this side of the fence. Stiles’ presence at his back had Derek feeling grounded, yet on edge. He wanted to push Stiles back farther, but that would only make him angry. Stiles knew how to defend himself, but that didn’t change how Derek felt when it came to protecting him. 

The sun set lower and lower until it was only a sliver in the sky. 

That was when the fog started rolling in. Stiles grabbed at Derek’s hand, yanking him back suddenly. 

“Derek, we need to hide,” Stiles hissed. “Now.”

“No,” Derek said, turning his head to look at Stiles’ pleading eyes. Derek wanted to kiss Stiles’ bit lips and furrowed brow. Stiles was scared, as was Derek, but Derek wasn’t going to hide. He knew it would be no use. 

“Derek, she is coming,” Stiles let out, the fear apparent in his voice. “The fog, the smoke.” 

“I know.”

“Derek-” Stiles started to say, but then he gasped out loud, along with Erica and Isaac. Right at the edge of town within the blink of an eye, she appeared. Derek took a step back, putting an arm out, blocking Stiles. Adara whined, as did everyone else’s daemons. Derek felt the tug deep in his gut, making him wince. He wondered if that was why Adara was yelping in pain, if the woman in black was making them suffer needlessly. 

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, a loud exhale of breath swept over the small crowd of people, the wind picking up slightly around them. Stiles’ grip on Derek’s hand tightened. 

She was terrifying, standing there with her hands clasped in front of her black dress, her face covered just like in the dream. Derek sucked in a breath as she moved, the black fog that surrounded her dissipating just enough to show that she was floating mere inches above the ground. The wolves howled, then, in unison. 

“You know why I am here,” she said. Derek’s jaw dropped at the sound of her real voice. It was tender, soft, and innocent sounding. Like she was lost and needed help finding her way. 

“No, we don’t,” Allison called out. She had another arrow at the ready. “And you can’t harm us-”

“Can’t I?” The woman in black asked, her voice crisper, harsher. She raised a hand, then made a fist. Isaac dropped to the ground, clutching at his heart. Scott dropped to his side, trying to help him up. When she loosened her fist, Isaac let out a gasp of breath. “I am here for the Changelings, Derek and Boyd.”

“No,” Erica said with the shake of her head, her arms around Boyd. Stiles, too, let out a sound of protest. 

“You cannot have them,” Stiles’ father spoke out. “Leave us be.” The woman in black let out a laugh, her hands reaching up for her hood, pushing it back to reveal her face. 

She had white blonde hair that was intricately braided up into a bun, her lips a bright red with a smirk that told Derek that she knew exactly what she was doing and that she would get everything that she wanted. 

“I will have them,” she stated, taking a step forward, passing over the village line. Everyone took a step backwards. Derek knew the wards wouldn’t hold, that they weren’t safe. Safety was relative. Her wolves surrounded her, following in her footsteps. “If they don’t come of their own free will, I will ravage this village.” The wolves snarled and snapped their fangs at her words. 

Derek began to step forward, but Stiles stopped him. 

“Derek, no.”

“Stiles-”

“Oh, Stiles,” she called out. “I do feel closest to you. I think you will be the one I speak with.” Derek shook his head at her words. Stiles pulled his hand from Derek’s, his body shaking slightly as he stepped forward. 

“Only if you tell me who you are,” Stiles demanded as he stood in front of Derek, shoulders set and legs spread slightly. He looked ready to fight. She smiled at him, amusement filled the air as she hummed. 

“You keep asking me that, don’t you? Always with questions. Very well, Stiles. My name is Lenora.” The air left Derek’s lungs as she said her name. He felt like he was drowning in it as her name repeated in his mind, engulfing him. _Lenora_. 

“Alright, Lenora,” Stiles spat. “How about this: you can’t have them.” 

Lenora frowned, then sighed as she shook her head, her shoulders shrugging. She looked up, then, at Erica. 

“Witch, I want you to hand me over your changeling.” Lenora made it sound as though she were asking for a loaf of bread and not Erica’s significant other. Erica scoffed. 

“I’m with Stiles. No one is taking Boyd from me.” 

Derek felt the urge to step in front of Stiles, to shield him from Lenora. He wasn’t sure what she would do. All he could think of was how he held Laura in his arms as she died. He didn’t want to do it again, not with Stiles, Erica, or with Boyd. 

Lenora stuck out her bottom lip in a pout as a hand skimmed over one of her wolves’ fur. Derek knew, then, that they were all changelings. He was to be added to her pack, her pets. Derek’s nostrils flared at the thought, a shiver running down his body. 

“Ennis, darling,” Lenora said to one of the wolves. “Show the witch what we do to those who don’t do as we ask.” The wolf growled, baring its teeth before it leapt forward. Derek barely had time to react before he heard Erica scream out in pain. 

“Stop!” Stiles yelled. Within the blink of an eye, the wolf yelped, then snapped at Stiles. “Call off your wolf, Lenora,” Stiles seethed, the knife in his hand bloodied. 

“Ennis,” Lenora said calmly, beckoning him to her. Derek was on his knees beside Erica, his hands over her arm where she had been bitten. His fingers were soaked in her blood. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins as Laura flashed before his eyes. 

“Do you think that killing us is the way to go about this?” Stiles asked, his voice strained. “Do you think that tormenting me in my dreams would get me to hand you Derek?” 

“Of course,” Lenora said. “Because you will, Stiles.” Derek closed his eyes, concentrating on stopping the bleeding. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes,” Lenora said, this time taking a step forward, towards Stiles, an arm extended outwards. Derek watched in horror as Stiles attempted to cut her, but as soon as her fingers touched him he stilled. 

“No,” Derek said, his eyes widening. At the same time, Stiles’ father stepped forward. 

“What are you doing to my son?” He bellowed as Stiles’ body lifted a few inches off the ground. He was glowing, a light blue shimmer covered his body, his head was tilted back, mouth hanging open. Derek’s heart was beating so fast he could barely hear the Sheriff speak. His body throbbed. He was panicking. Adara was lying on the ground, whining as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Derek knew that Stiles was in pain, he had to be by how Adara was reacting. 

“Come here, Derek,” Lenora called out. Derek stood, then, and walked forward. He knew that Boyd and Melissa were there, helping Erica. Derek held his breath as he stood by her. She was no longer touching him, but her hand was extended up, her fingers curled as if she had Stiles by the throat. “I am not here to play games.” 

Derek looked to Stiles, then down to Adara who was shaking. Stiles’ eyes were closed, which scared Derek. What nightmare was he trapped in now? 

“I don’t want any games,” Derek answered. “I just want this over with.” Lenora smiled at him then, and it was the scariest thing he had ever seen. She lifted an eyebrow. 

“Listen, all of you,” Lenora called out, like everyone’s attention hadn’t already been on her. “Stiles here has been chosen,” Lenora was looking Derek in the eye, now, making sure he was listening to her every word. “What I want is protection. Protection in the form of changelings, Derek and Boyd.” Lenora reached out to Stiles’ hand, taking it gently in hers. She began glowing the same as Stiles, shimmering brightly despite how dark it was. Derek gasped at the burning pain he felt in his hand, the one with the bond. 

He looked down at his palm, his jaw dropping when he saw it glowing white hot.

“No,” he said, letting out a choked sob. 

“You will protect me, Derek.” she said. “Because if you don’t, Stiles will die.” 

The glowing dissipated, Stiles’ body crumpled to the ground lifelessly. Stiles’ father was there, holding onto Stiles. Derek looked down at his hand, his eyes watering at the lack of the intricate knot that should be covering his palm. It was gone. 

“What did you do?” Derek said, looking at her. 

“I rid you of your bond to him,” she said plainly. Derek’s gut clenched, his head shaking. He needed that bond, it was theirs. It was his, Stiles’ and Adara’s. It wasn’t to be taken away, ever. It wasn’t possible. Derek raged, lunging for her. 

“No,” Lenora’s voice boomed as the wind howled around them. “You harm me, and you harm Stiles.” She held up her hand, and there was his bond. Derek’s throat constricted at the sight of it. Stiles still lay unconscious on the ground, Adara yelping in despair at Derek’s feet. “Keep me safe, and he will live.” 

Derek felt hollow, empty inside. 

“If you don’t leave with me now, I will end his life with the snap of my fingers. If you disobey me, he will die.” 

“Alright,” Derek murmured. 

“Derek, no,” Adara whimpered. “Stiles-”

“Stiles will be alive,” Derek whispered, his eyes closing. “That’s all that matters.” Adara shook her head, pawing at his leg as she stood on her hind legs. He looked to Lenora, his jaw set tight. 

“Boyd?” Lenora asked, her gaze falling to him. “Do I need to help you make your decision?” Boyd shook his head from where he knelt by Erica. “Good.” 

Derek fell to his knees, grabbing hold of Stiles, pulling him into his lap. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, his fingers digging into Stiles’ hair. Stiles’ eyes opened slowly, his face pained. 

“What-”

“There isn’t time,” Derek rushed out, knowing Lenora wouldn’t allow them time to say goodbye, for him to explain. “I have to go.” 

“No,” Stiles urged, his brow furrowing. “You can’t leave.” 

“Stiles, she broke the-” 

“Enough,” Lenora said, cutting Derek off. “Stiles, you and I are one, now. I suggest you tell your wolf to behave or you won’t ever be able to sleep again.” Derek growled at her, then, unable to hold it back. Stiles shook his head, his hand reaching out for Derek’s face, his eyes widening when he realized what was missing. 

“Derek,” he cried out. “I-” 

Derek kissed Stiles. It was salty from their tears, and open-mouthed because he stopped Stiles from speaking. His heart was already broken enough, he couldn’t handle Stiles’ pleas. His mind was made up. There was no way he would let Stiles die now. 

The kiss was over before it barely began. Derek felt a tug deep within himself. It felt like Lenora was forcing him to change, to shift. He wasn’t able to stop it from happening. 

“Stiles-” Derek managed to say before he felt the shift take full effect. He was on all fours, his tail hanging low, whines escaping him. Stiles’s fingers were tugging at his fur, trying to keep him near. 

“If any of you follow, Stiles will be the one to pay for it,” Lenora said as smoke encompassed them. Derek noticed that Boyd had been forced to change as well, and that Erica was crying as she attempted to grab ahold of him. With that, darkness engulfed them and Stiles disappeared from sight. 

They were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point I just want to thank those of you who are reading. Thanks for sticking with me, with this fic and this verse. I hope you are at least enjoying the torture?


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles watched in horror as Derek vanished into thin air with only wisps of black smoke lingering as evidence of their disappearance. Stiles shook his head, his fingers digging into the dirt around him as he forced himself to sit up. His mouth was hanging open, his chest heaving. Derek was gone.

He was vaguely aware of his father beside him, attempting to talk to him, but Stiles wasn’t registering any of it. Everything seemed distant, muffled as his own heartbeat filled his ears. Stiles covered them, shutting his eyes. 

Derek was gone. 

Stiles could hear Erica’s screams, her frantic sobbing at Boyd’s capture. Stiles felt himself crumbling inwards. Not only had Stiles lost Derek, but also the bond. He felt its absence deep within him, eating away at him. The chaos that surrounded him wasn’t helping matters. He had Scott and his father trying to calm him down while Allison and Isaac tried helping Erica. Everything had fallen apart. On top of everything, Stiles hadn’t slept in so long he could barely keep his eyes open but there was no way he was sleeping, now. He was too afraid to even contemplate it. And now he didn’t have Derek by his side. 

“Don’t touch me,” Stiles called out. Immediately his father’s and Scott’s hands receded. He didn’t want anyone touching him, or Adara. He opened his eyes, not at all surprised to see her shaking in front of him. He pulled her close, letting tears fall freely once he had her in his arms. “Addie,” he cried out. “He’s gone.” 

Adara began licking Stiles’ tears, not stopping as he continued on. He felt so hopeless. His father tried to urge him to go inside, but Stiles pushed his hand away, unmoving. 

Stiles was left alone, staring at the spot Derek disappeared from. He sat there, face soaked, his fingers buried in Adara’s fur as she tried to console him despite being just as heartbroken as he was. Stiles didn’t know how long he sat there, but when the wind picked up once more, he closed his eyes, waiting to hear his mother’s voice. 

“My Stiles,” the wind echoed around him. Stiles let out the breath he had been holding within him, shuddering as he felt himself relax for the first time in hours. 

“Mom,” Stiles mumbled, his lips barely moving. Adara squirmed in his arms, her ears twitching as she looked around. Stiles never talked back before, he didn’t want to before now, didn’t want to stop it. Only now he yearned for the interaction. He shut his eyes once more, trying to picture his mother, how it would feel to have her arms wrap around him. He had always felt safe with her holding him tight. 

“Do not let this break you,” she told him, the wind ruffling his hair. Stiles sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “You will find him.” 

“He’s gone,” Stiles said, making Adara whine. He opened his eyes, then, looking down at his palm where the bond should be. He closed his fist, raking his teeth across his bottom lip. 

“You cannot find him if you give up.” 

“I’m so tired,” Stiles told her as he heard footsteps approaching. Stiles wanted to scream, knowing that his mother couldn’t be heard if others were around. He wanted to hear her voice, her advice. He calmed down when he saw Lydia standing over him with an oil lamp in her hand. 

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice grave. Stiles nodded as he forced himself to stand. He still had Adara in his arms. He wasn’t planning on letting her go anytime soon, and he doubted she wanted to be far from his touch. She led Stiles to her house, into a small library she had. Stiles didn’t see any sign of Jackson. Lydia probably told him to stay away as she talked with him. 

Stiles hadn’t been expecting Lydia to hug him, but there she was with her arms wrapped around him. Stiles buried his face in her hair which smelled strongly of strawberries. It made Stiles think about how different Derek’s hugs were, how tight and strong. Stiles pushed back from here as he wiped at his eyes.

“I know you haven’t slept-”

“I’m not planning on it,” Stiles interrupted as he leaned against a writing desk. Adara was by his feet, her tail wrapped around his legs, her paws on his boots. She was as close as she could possibly be to him. It helped. 

“Can I see your palm?” Lydia asked. Stiles held out his bare hand, flinching when she ran a nail over his skin. “And how do you feel?” 

“Empty,” Stiles said truthfully, surprising himself. Lydia frowned at him as he tugged his hand away from her. “Tingling,” Stiles sighed out, trying to find the words that could describe the feel of Lenora’s magic smothering him. Stiles covered his mouth with his hand as he remembered how it felt when her magic smashed into him, lifting him into the air. How it felt to have the bond ripped from him and replaced with her life line. His gut twisted. “I feel sick.” Suddenly, a cool cloth was placed on Stiles’ forehead. He leaned into it, sighing in relief. 

“I have been doing research, or attempting to, since... what happened,” Lydia said, avoiding saying anything about Stiles killing Laura. “And now with everything, I think between Erica, Isaac, and me, we can stop the nightmares.” 

“They don’t matter now,” Stiles grumbled. “I’m bonded to her.”

“I don’t think so,” Lydia told him. “I don’t think it works quite the same way.” 

“How do you mean?” Stiles asked. Lydia shook her head with a shrug. 

“What you and Derek have, it can’t just be-”

“Had, Lydia. Past, as in not anymore.” Lydia pinched Stiles, which made him yank his arm away from her. 

“Listen to me, would you?” She hissed. “I have nothing to test this against, but I don’t see how she could break the bond.” Stiles showed her his hand once more. 

“Do you see any bond, Lydia?” Stiles asked. Lydia pushed his hand away. “Because I don’t see one.” He held his hand against his chest, then, not liking the reminder that he was alone. “How is Erica?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask. 

“Her arm will heal,” Lydia supplied. 

“But-”

“But she is heartsick over Boyd being taken. Isaac and I both think that if she wasn’t a witch she would have been visited by Lenora as well.” 

“Really?” Stiles asked. 

“It makes sense to us, if she was coming for the changelings. That is what got me thinking about how we could keep her from entering your mind, your dreams. We get you to be a magic user.” 

“I thought it was born into you,” Stiles said with a frown. 

“It is, in a way, but I am not inherently magical, but I can wield it in my own way.” Stiles didn’t want to wield magic, he didn’t want to use it, but if it stopped Lenora, stopped the nightmares, then he was all for it. 

“Tomorrow, I want to try something.”

“Anything,” Stiles blurted out. Adara growled at his carelessness, but Stiles ignored her. He would do anything now to rid himself of the nightmares. He never wanted one again. Lydia gave him a small smile. 

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Lydia asked him. Stiles shook his head. He noticed how tired she looked, her hair a mess and bags under her eyes. He hadn’t been the only one affected by the day’s horrors. 

“No, but I will be back first thing in the morning,” Stiles said as he pushed himself away from the writing desk. Lydia gave him a light kiss on the cheek as he passed by her. It was meant to be reassuring, but it left Stiles feeling empty inside. There had been no brush of stubble, no firm grip against his neck. All it did was remind Stiles that Derek was gone. 

Stiles found himself back at their cabin. It was dark and empty, foreboding. He stepped inside, a hand covering his mouth when he managed to stumble into their room. The bed was unmade, with Derek’s clothes strewn across the floor. Stiles let out a groan as he fell onto the bed, burying his face in Derek’s pillow, pulling it close. It smelled of him. Their sheets smelled like them, like home and safety and Stiles couldn’t help but hug the pillow tighter. Adara was next to him, her nose nudging his arm. He pulled her close. She breathed inward, letting a whine escape. 

He didn’t sleep. He stared off into the dark abyss that was their bedroom, unthinkingly. Stiles felt empty, numb. He concentrated on breathing, on running his fingers through Adara’s fur. Time passed within the blink of an eye, the sun beginning to rise, light slowly leaking into the room. Stiles forced himself to sit up, his eyes casting across the room, landing on the stained floor. Stiles’ breath hitched, but no noise came out. 

With his mouth set in a frown, Stiles made himself change clothes. Without thinking about it, he grabbed a discarded shirt of Derek’s, pulling it on. The smell of him calmed Stiles. The shirt felt like armour, safeguarding him from emotions that he was burying deep down. Stiles grabbed his knives, strapping on his thigh holsters, making sure to grab his dagger for his boot. 

“I want to stay here,” Adara said. She was buried beneath blankets, her tail peeking out from underneath it, twitching ever so slightly. 

“I can’t stay in this place any longer, I will go insane,” Stiles replied. “All it does is remind me that yesterday he was here.” 

“What will happen when his scent fades?” Adara asked him. Stiles breathed in deeply, his fingers ghosting over the shirt he was wearing. 

“We’re going to get him back, Addie.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because I won’t stop until he is free,” Stiles said as he headed for the door. He knew he wouldn’t make it far before Adara would dart out in front of him, and he was right. He barely opened the door to their cabin before Adara shot out in front of him, not wanting to be far from his side. 

When they arrived back at Lydia’s, Stiles was surprised to find that Erica and Isaac were already there, all with cups of tea in their hands as they sat around the kitchen counter. Lydia poured Stiles his own cup, giving him a small smile as she handed it over. 

“We have been expecting you.”

“Did you sleep?” Stiles asked Lydia. 

“A few hours,” she responded, looking to Erica. Stiles didn’t know what to say to her, that he felt like Boyd being taken had been his fault, somehow. That he should have stopped it. “We have a lot to discuss, about a lot of topics. But first things first: we need to stop the nightmares. You need to be able to sleep.”

“No offense, but you look horrible,” Erica teased. Stiles bit his tongue, because she looked as though she hadn’t slept either. She had bags under her eyes, along with them being red and puffy from a night of crying. Stiles, though, hadn’t cried since Derek left. He couldn’t, as much as he felt like he wanted to. He had no more tears. He felt weak, dulled around the edges. 

“I’m up for anything,” Stiles said before he took a sip of his tea. Adara growled at his feet. 

“I was hoping you would say something along those lines,” Isaac spoke up. Stiles arched an eyebrow at him. “I was afraid to suggest something before, hoping that the amulet would suffice but it clearly wasn’t strong enough. 

“What are you suggesting, exactly?” Stiles asked. Isaac cleared his throat, looking to Erica for a moment. 

“Erica and I believe that you need to be branded with the herbs I had originally used. So the effect would not only be stronger, but permanent.” 

“Branded?” Stiles asked, his breath catching. “How-”

“Danny,” Lydia interrupted. “It would be done with one of his tools.” Stiles licked his lips, both of his eyebrows lifted upwards. 

“Alright,” Stiles murmured. 

“No!” Adara said as she scratched him with her claws. He barely felt them, though, through his boots. “Last time-”

“It won’t be like before,” Isaac assured them. “The brand is what I had wanted to do in the first place.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Stiles demanded.

“Would you have let me?” He asked. “Truthfully, do you think Derek would have-”

Stiles hand slammed down against the counter, the mention of Derek’s name making him snap. Derek wouldn’t have. He would have protested, not trusting Isaac with Stiles’ welfare in the slightest. It made Stiles angry, knowing how much Derek would have pushed for another way. Nothing would have changed, in the end, because Stiles would have been swayed by Derek. 

Stiles grit his teeth as he looked at Isaac. 

“Derek isn’t here,” Stiles said. “I will do the brand.” 

Everyone was silent for a moment, watching Stiles for another reaction. When he didn’t move, Lydia let out an audible sigh. 

“Well, then that is settled. Erica and I have put together the proper herbs.” Lydia placed a stoppered vial on the table in front of Stiles. “It’s all ready to go. Isaac is going to give Danny a drawing of the design needed. He will need time to make a mold of it, and cast it before we brand you.” Stiles nodded his head in silence as he twisted the vial around with his fingers, his eyes not leaving it. 

“The sooner the better.” 

Isaac left them to find Danny in order to deliver the drawing. It would bind Stiles to himself, to not allow anyone in. It was to be a combination of the hex bag that Erica had made him in the past, along with what Isaac had conjured. Together, it would be stronger. 

“Stiles,” Lydia spoke up, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen when Isaac left the house. Erica was crocheting, sniffling every so often to herself as she kept her fingers busy. Stiles had zoned out, his hands holding on firmly to his cup of tea. Stiles blinked, looking up at Lydia from where she stood in front of him. 

“I was thinking about how we could find them.”

“I’m listening,” Stiles said in a hushed tone that matched Lydia’s. Apparently she didn’t want Erica to hear of whatever her plan was.”

“I could ask the Alethiometer...”

With widened eyes, Stiles stiffened at her words. “Of course you can say no. I would never-”

“Yes,” Stiles almost shouted. “Yes, you can use me to ask.” 

“Stiles, I don’t - it is a last result.”

“It is the only way to know where they are, where they are headed, to know if we can even save them. Ask everything, anything. Ask even after I pass out, Lydia,” Stiles let out in a rush. He could feel his hands shaking at the mere mention of his curse, about the pain that would come, the fact that he would surely pass out from it. “Just make sure I have something to bite down on. Last time I bit my tongue.” He had said it to make light of the fact that she would essentially be torturing him, but the look on her face let Stiles knew that she didn’t really want to cause him any harm. 

It didn’t matter to Stiles. Pain was pain, and he was used to it. The brand would hurt, using him as the Alethiometer would hurt. The loss of the bond and Derek hurt even more than those would. Sharp pain always faded, but he would always feel the loss of Derek deep down. It was not on the surface. Derek had been a part of him and now he felt nothing. If anything, he welcomed the pain if only to forget about the ache in his heart. 

Isaac returned with news from Danny. He needed the day to make the brand itself. It took time to make the mold, to cast it, then ready it properly. Stiles wasn’t sure what to do with his time as they waited. He walked around the village, went to the Inn for lunch with his father, watched Danny and Scott work on the brand, then found himself back at Lydia’s. He couldn’t get her words out of his head. She could use him to ask where Lenora took Derek and Boyd. 

Stiles wanted her to ask with every fiber of his being. 

“Lydia-”

“Not yet, Stiles.”

“Yes, now. I want you to do it, I am going crazy,” Stiles all but pleaded. He already had his shirt off as he paced around her kitchen, his fingers tugging at his hair. “If you ask now, maybe we will have time to gather, to think. If we wait-”

“If we wait then we can take our time as well, make sure-”

“There is no time!” Stiles shouted. They are getting farther and farther away, can’t you see that? I need him back. Erica needs Boyd.” Stiles was manic, his chest heaving with the strain of his outburst. Lydia bit her lip as she observed Stiles. 

“You haven’t slept-”

Stiles scoffed. Of course he hadn’t slept. 

“Not until tomorrow, after the brand.” 

“So then what will happen if you pass out from the pain, Stiles?” She asked him, her arms crossed and an eyebrow lifted, her head tilted. “What if your sleep was pain induced? You’d still be asleep.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles said. “Lydia, they could be anywhere.”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Stiles, I am not putting you through that, I regret telling you my idea.” 

“You can’t just take that from me,” Stiles snapped. “You have to do it, I _want_ you to do it.” 

“There has to be another way-”

“Lydia, if he wants to do it, then do it” Erica said as she appeared, walking slowly down the stairs. Stiles forgot that she had been there earlier, that she may have still been around. “If he wants you to read his back to find them...” Erica shrugged as her feet hit the floor. “We have no other way to search for them.”

Looking defeated, Lydia nodded her head. Stiles let out a sigh of relief even though his stomach churned at the thought of the pain to come. 

“It is easiest if my arms are raised,” Stiles said, looking to Lydia. “Like how they did it.” They meaning the Magisterium, how they strung him up so that when he passed out Lydia could still read his back. 

“I don’t know where we could do that, here.” 

“I do,” Erica spoke up. “I know of two trees, near Boyd’s and my-” Erica stopped mid-sentence in order to bite her lip. Stiles and Lydia both watched as she composed herself. “Near our cabin, they are close enough together, but we will need rope, or something to hold you down with.” 

“I know where some leather straps are,” Lydia said, running up the stairs for them, leaving Stiles and Erica alone. Stiles didn’t know what to say to break the silence. He didn’t know if there was anything to say. 

“If anyone can get them back, it is you,” Erica said. “I will go with you, once we figure it out.”

“One step at a time. We have to see if Lydia finds anything out or not first.” 

“I believe she will.”

“Me too,” Stiles said just as Lydia came back down the stairs holding two leather straps in her hands. Stiles lifted an eyebrow, wondering for a second what they were normally used for, but he decided against asking about it. His mind filled in the blanks perfectly fine. 

Lydia grabbed a few things before they headed over to Erica’s while Stiles held onto his restraints. They weren’t thin, but thick leather, like the sort used for a belt, but without any markings or engravings on them. 

Erica and Lydia tied him up, his arms spread wide, held up between the trees. The trees were far enough apart that if he reached his fingers out, he could almost touch the bark, but not quite. He already had phantom pains in his wrists from binding them with the leather as he recalled being shackled, but he pushed his panic down. This was Lydia and Erica, not the Magisterium. They were his friends, they were on his side. He asked to be tied up. 

Stiles yanked at the leather, put his entire weight on it to see how it felt in case he passed out. They tied it so that he could hold on, looping it around his wrists loosely so it wouldn’t cut off circulation. Still, Stiles was already sweating as he watched Lydia ready her book and writing utensil. Erica appeared in front of him, holding a stick. 

“You mentioned something to bite on?” 

“I did, didn’t I,” Stiles mumbled before opening his mouth, biting down on it when she pressed it against him. It tasted bitter, dry, of dirt. Stiles used it to ground him, concentrating on the taste of it rather than the fact that Lydia was walking behind him. 

“I am going to start,” she said, her voice firm, committed. Stiles nodded once, then strained against the leather as he felt her touch his back once, twice, three times. He flinched at each touch, knowing what was coming. 

The pain blinded him as he lurched forward, tugging against the restraints. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. Not the stick, not Erica’s voice, not anything that didn’t have to do with his back being on fire. Stiles bit down on the stick, his eyes shutting tight as he felt the pain coursing through him. He felt like he was drowning in it, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Beside him, he heard Adara whining on the ground for him. Grunting through the pain, he tried lifting his head to look at Erica, but the strain was too much as Lydia’s fingers touched his back again, sending spirals of pain through his body. Stiles sobbed as he felt darkness overtaking him. He tried in vain to remain conscious, but he knew it wouldn’t last. As he closed his eyes, he felt his entire body go slack. 

Even with his eyes closed, Stiles knew he was dreaming. He could hear his own breathing, shallow and loud as it echoed around him. Stiles didn’t want to open his eyes for fear of seeing Lenora, of the smoke and the wolves. It wasn’t until Stiles felt a tongue on his skin, on his hand, warm and wet, that he opened his eyes. Derek, as the wolf, sat beside him, his head bowed by his hand. He licked him again. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, his voice catching in his throat as he reached out for him. As soon as his fingers buried themselves into Derek’s fur, Stiles’ face scrunched up in pain. “You’re gone, you aren’t real.” 

Derek whined, shaking his head as he licked Stiles cheek, cleaning off the tears that were falling. Stiles closed his eyes, pulling Derek close as he rubbed his nose against Derek’s soft black fur. He wanted to stay here, with Derek. He didn’t want to go back where he was without him, where he felt empty. “You feel real,” Stiles told him. Derek pushed Stiles against the ground, practically laying on top of him, his paws splayed across Stiles’ chest, his head lowering, resting on him. Stiles pet Derek’s head, fingers scratching at his ears. 

“I’m going to find you,” Stiles told him. “Lydia and I are working on a way.” 

Derek growled, getting up and backing away from Stiles as he shook his head at him. Stiles frowned as he tried to move, tried get up and to scoot closer to Derek. He was stuck. “Derek-” Stiles bit his lip to hold back a scream as black smoke appeared, enveloping Derek into the darkness. “No!” He screamed, knowing what was coming.

“You are causing me more trouble than you are worth,” Lenora’s voice echoed through the darkness. Stiles looked around him, seeing nothing but pitch black. He could no longer see Derek or hear him. The darkness took him; he was alone again. 

“So kill me, then,” Stiles goaded. “See if Derek will protect you then.” 

Lenora’s laugh echoed around him, harsh and menacing. 

“I won’t kill you, Stiles. We are connected, you and I. There is a fire in you that I admire, but I am growing tired of your will. I’m here to stomp out that flame before it catches me alight.” 

“By all means,” Stiles hissed. “Come and get me. I don’t see what else you could do to me.” And that was the truth. What else could she take from him? 

“I’d watch that tongue if I were you,” Lenora said as she appeared by Stiles’ side. She reached out, grabbing hold of his chin. Stiles clenched his fists at his side, still straining to move. Lenora smiled at him, her hair cascading down her shoulders in large ringlets, her lips stained red. It reminded him of blood. Stiles bared his teeth, his eyes narrowing. 

“I’d be worried about running with wolves,” Stiles said. “You never know when they’re going to turn on you.” 

Stiles wasn’t surprised when Lenora put her hand around his neck and squeezed, her nails digging into his flesh. With one hand on his neck and the other on his face, she leaned forward. Stiles sucked in a breath as he realized what made her seem so eerie: her irises were black. She looked possessed, inhuman. 

“Why be worried if Derek will do anything I ask, because if I die, you die.” 

Stiles stiffened, his body shaking with anger. 

“And if I die?” Stiles asked. Lenora let go of him, letting his head fall backwards to hit the ground. Stiles watched her as she eyed him suspiciously, a hand on his chest. 

“Would you do that, Stiles?” She asked him. “Would you really kill yourself?” 

Stiles smiled up at her as he felt himself being pulled out of his nightmare. He woke up, the memories of her screams a mere shadow in his mind. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the comments in the last chapter. it makes me wish i could write faster! hope those who are reading are enjoying the ride as much as i am in writing it!


	8. Chapter 8

Derek felt disoriented. With Boyd by his side, he followed Lenora. He felt her power keeping him in his wolf form. It made his ears flatten, his tail sag between his legs at the loss of the bond. He ached for Stiles, for Adara. He was unable to shout out, to scream at his loss. All he could do was whine quietly to himself. 

Stiles was safe, and that was what mattered. Stiles was alive, he would be safe in Evenstar. Derek kept picturing Stiles’ heart breaking over and over as they walked. One moment they had been in the meadow, the next they were surrounded by trees in an unknown forest. Nothing smelled familiar to Derek, and by the looks of it, Boyd was just as confused by their whereabouts. There were five other wolves with them, varying in size and color. One, the biggest, walked out in front of Lenora, leading her. 

Lenora had her hand on another, which only reminded Derek of how he and Stiles used to walk like that, with Stiles’ fingers holding tight to his fur. Derek snuffled, shaking his head as he tried to rid himself of the memory. It wouldn’t do anything but upset him, now. There was no use in pining for something that would never be. He couldn’t go back, he couldn’t kill Lenora. He had to protect her. If something happened to her, then the same would happen to Stiles. Derek wouldn’t let anything happen to him, not if he could help it. 

It made Derek’s fur rise, the fact that wisps of black smoke trailed behind Lenora as she walked. She was unearthly, seemingly gliding through the rocky terrain as Derek climbed after them. He kept trying to grab Boyd’s attention even though they had no way of communicating. Her magic bound him into this form, which felt confining. In the past whenever he was a wolf it had felt freeing, but now it felt like he was suffocating. He felt too big for this skin, as if he could burst at any moment. He felt a pressure in his head, pounding with every step. He wished it to stop, but as they kept moving the intensity grew and grew. 

Eventually a house came into view; it was made of stone, with ivy crawling up the sides. It was bigger than any cabin in Evenstar, even bigger than the Inn. It reminded Derek of a church, its size big enough to hold hundreds of people. The wolves stopped just short of the door, sitting back on their haunches as the massive iron door opened, revealing a man with an arched brow. 

“We weren’t expecting you back so soon.” The man’s gaze fell to Derek and Boyd, singling them out immediately. “But I see you got what you wanted.” 

“I did,” Lenora replied as she stepped forward with a sigh. She looked back at Derek and Boyd, her mouth twitching upwards in a half smirk. “See to it that they are collared.” Derek’s hackles rose as he bared his teeth. A growl rumbled deep within him, the same coming from Boyd as she disappeared into the house. 

“I would behave if I were you,” he said to them as he stepped out into the courtyard. Derek took a step back when he saw that the man held a whip in his hand. “The collars won’t hurt you, unless you disobey us.” 

Derek thought, for a moment, about running. He felt the fight or flight response urging him to do it, to get away. His hesitation cost him his chance, though, because then the other wolves were on their feet, nudging at Derek to follow with snapping teeth and insistent noses pushing. Derek’s hackles rose, his fur standing on end as he growled once more. He didn’t want to be touched by them, by anyone. He snapped his teeth at the closest one to his size, nipping at its leg. 

It bit back, hard. 

Derek’s place in the pack was at the bottom, along with Boyd. They were to obey, step in line. Everything within Derek screamed that this wasn’t what he wanted, that it wasn’t who he was. He was a human, bonded to Stiles and Adara. He didn’t belong here. 

A crack of the whip reverberated around him as he felt pain shooting throughout his body. He recoiled, his eyes immediately landing on the man with the whip. He wished he knew his name so he could curse him. He would regret using that weapon on him, Derek knew. He would bide his time, though. Derek was patient. 

But for now, it stung. Behind him Boyd let out a sympathetic groan. The wolf that Derek had been fighting with had gotten licked by the whip as well, but instead of taking it out on Derek, it kept its ears lowered and eyes cast downwards. They had no fight, no self-preservation left. It made Derek angrier. 

He got cracked with the whip again for good measure, on his paw. He limped his way to wherever they were going. They walked around the back of the house, to a barnlike building. Inside it was a long line of massive cages. Without a word from the man with the whip, they filed into the cages. Derek decided to dub him Eyebrow, because he always seemed to have at least one of them arched, or furrowed in anger. There was an entire row of empty cages, which made Derek wonder how many changelings Lenora was planning on kidnapping. 

The sound of the iron gates all shutting at once and locking had Derek on edge. What surprised him next was the fact that all of them except for one transformed, then, into their human forms. Three men and a woman, all naked, filled the cages. Derek watched as they grabbed for rags, garments that had been laying in the cages on bedding. They were all wearing collars, and they were all filthy. Derek wanted to try to run again, knowing that once the collar was on that it would be next to impossible to leave. 

Eyebrow led Boyd and him into a back room, alone. Derek wondered how easy it would be to kill him right then and there, rip into his flesh with his teeth, claw out his eyes, render him completely immobile before crushing his neck. As if he knew what Derek was thinking, Eyebrow grabbed Derek by the back of his neck. Derek immediately felt a surge of power throbbing through his bones. He crumpled to the ground, his chest heaving from the pain. 

“Try anything and you are dead, beast.” 

Derek wanted to scream that he was no beast, that he was human, but he couldn’t. Eyebrow turned to Boyd, leaving Derek laying on the ground. 

“Are you going to cooperate with me?” He asked. Boyd nodded his head, once. Eyebrow produced a collar, snapping it around Boyd’s neck. Boyd yelped in pain, shaking his head as he tried to get it off, growling as he did so. “Stop it.” Boyd laid down on the ground, whining with each breath, his eyes looking towards Derek, pleading with him. 

Derek ran for it. 

He dashed out of the back room, pushing past the throbbing pain of the man’s power, the whip’s lashing, and the pressure in his head, he ran as fast as he could out the barn and away from the big house. He ran until he couldn’t run anymore. He didn’t know which direction Stiles was in, or even where in the country he was. He could faintly smell salt, the ocean. Evenstar was days, the coast, possibly weeks. Derek’s heart ached at the distance. Derek didn’t stop moving, though, despite his exhaustion. It wasn’t until after night fell that he got a second wind, the moon high in the sky seemingly giving him energy. 

It was near dawn when Derek, moving with his head hung low, barely awake, noticed a shift in the air surrounding him. Derek growled as familiar black smoke appeared. Derek backed away from it, knowing full well who would be appearing. There was no escaping her, collar or no. 

“That was not a wise decision, Derek,” Lenora spoke up. Derek turned towards her, baring his teeth. She arched an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “I want to speak with you,” she said, reaching out to him. Derek thought about snapping his teeth at her, biting her, but knew better. Immediately after she touched him, the pressure in his head let up. He was human before he knew it, naked before her, covered in dirt. “This will make that easier.” 

“What do you want?” Derek asked, his voice gruff from nonuse. He hid the pain he felt in his arm from the whip, from running on it for hours upon hours. He did cradle it though, uncaring about his lack of clothing. Lenora looked him up and down as she crossed her arms. 

“What do I want?” She asked, her voice shrill. “I want you not to run from me. I need to trust you.”

“You will never be able to trust me,” Derek seethed. “And I will keep running, as long as I can.” 

“Stupid boy,” she spat. “Have you forgotten...?”

“I haven’t forgotten a thing,” Derek interrupted. He would never forget what she did to him, to Stiles. Derek clenched his fist where the bond should be, a reminder that he was supposed to be linked to Stiles and Adara. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight you every step of the way.” 

“You will put this collar on, or you and he will regret it.” Derek grit his teeth, closing his eyes at Lenora’s words. When he opened them, she had the collar in her hands, palms up, presenting it to him. “If you put it on yourself it will hurt less.”

Derek took a step back, shaking his head. 

“I am no dog,” he said, his voice low. “I will not be collared. I saw what it did to Boyd.” 

“If you do not, then I will do to you what I did to your sister,” Lenora said plainly, shrugging nonchalantly. “Your choice.” 

“You gave me no choice in this, do not think for a second that there is any choice in what you are doing.” Derek reached out, yanking the collar from her. He held it in his hands, his nostrils flared at the cool steel. “Why the collar? What does it do? Is it magic?”

“It is magic. Damian, my sorcerer, made them especially.” 

“Damian?” Derek asked. “The man with no daemon?” 

“Oh, he has a daemon,” Lenora said, smiling. “She is just small.” 

“And yours?” Derek asked. At that, Lenora’s smile fell, her eyes narrowing. Apparently no more questions were being answered. 

“Put the collar on.”

“No,” Derek said as he gripped the collar tight, flexing his muscles, trying to bend it, crush it. It didn’t budge, didn’t shift or change shape in the slightest. Lenora watched him in silence attempt to destroy it. 

“Magic, Derek,” she overenunciated. “You cannot destroy it. Once it is on, it will not come off unless I want it to.” 

“You are not making a good case. I see no reason to put it on,” Derek told her as he tossed it to the ground at his feet.

“If you don’t, I will break every bone in Stiles’ body as he sleeps.” 

Derek raged, rushing forward, lunging for her. He barely got within an inch of her before he was on the ground, unable to move. The pressure in his head was so intense that he could barely think or see straight. He screamed out in agony as he broke out into a sweat. 

“Stop,” he pleaded as tears rolled down his cheeks. The pain left as fast as it had arrived, leaving him breathless on the ground before her. He reached out for the collar, his fingers grazing over the metal tentatively before he pulled it towards him. Lenora watched him in silence as he sat there with shaking hands as he held it. When he lifted his head to look at her, she showed no sign of remorse. 

“Put it on and I won’t harm him,” she reiterated. Derek licked his chapped, dirtied lips as he thought about the changelings in cages back at the barn. He thought about the forced submission and Boyd’s whimpers. He thought about Stiles’ limp form hanging in the air as she took their bond away and transferred it to her. 

“You have already used him against me,” Derek pointed out. “Do you really only have one card to play?” With his jaw set, Derek stared her down from where he sat, his fingers clasped around the collar. Lenora narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I will not ask you again,” she hissed. Derek knew he was going to cave in. He wouldn’t risk Stiles’ life, wouldn’t treat it so flippantly. He knew what she could do, what she had already done to him. She had slowly broken him, forced him to even kill. Derek didn’t want to think about what else she was capable of. 

“I will not be caged,” Derek told her, his muscles flexing as he tried once more in vain to bend the metal. Lenora said nothing to him, just waited for him to put it on. It seemed as though she was through talking to him. The throbbing in the back of Derek’s head intensified, forcing him to sway slightly. 

“The headache will cease,” Lenora told him. Derek glared up at her through the nausea he felt. The pounding in his head threatened to worsen with each breath he took. He didn’t want to be controlled by her, or by Damian. He wanted to be back with Stiles in Evenstar, curled up in bed with Adara between them. It would never be again, though, that much Derek knew. His happiness was ripped from him, the only silver lining that remained was that Stiles was alive and well. He was safe. 

Derek took a deep breath as he placed the collar around his neck. It clicked in place, sealing itself so that Derek was unable to even find the seam when he brushed his fingers over it. The pain of the headache subsided, but the magic of the collar burst through him with white hot bolts of energy. Derek screamed, his eyes shutting in a feeble attempt to make it stop. 

Eventually, Derek recovered. He was unsure of the time lapse when he came to. He was a wolf again, he realized. Lenora stood unmoving over him, her face unreadable. 

“Now you will follow me back. We have to walk, because there is no land jumping this close to my home.” Derek wasn’t sure what she meant, except for how she used black smoke as some sort of portal, traveling through it. “Beside me,” she said, her finger pointing to her side. Derek moved without question, knowing that she wanted him to walk with her as if she was Stiles. Derek decided not to fight it, to go with her. Now that he was collared, he had no way of escape. If he so much as stepped out of line, he could be flattened to the ground, writhing in pain within seconds. 

Derek felt hopeless. 

Exhaustion overcame him once they made it back to the house. He expected to be led into the barn, to a cage. He let out a low whine as Lenora crossed over the threshold of the house. Without a word, she pointed to her side. Derek was to follow her, it seemed. With his ears low and head ducked downwards, Derek padded his way into the house. It was lavish compared to the cabins they made in Evenstar. With hard, polished wood floors, he wondered if the claws on his paws would mar it. 

“You are back, Mistress?” Damian’s voice echoed through the hallway. Derek let out a growl. He disliked him, hated his whip, despised his magic. Instinctively, he pressed up against Lenora. It wasn’t until he felt her fingers card through his fur that he realized what he had done. Her fingers were nothing like Stiles’. Her nails raked through his fur, making it stand on edge as he recalled Stiles’ blunt fingernails digging into him. 

“I am.”

“Would you like me to take the runaway-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lenora said as she started to ascend the stairs, her hand leaving him so that she could lift the hem of her dress as she walked up them. “He will serve me well tonight.” 

“But Mistr-”

“Do not contradict me, Damian,” Lenora snapped, her eyes going from Damian to Derek. “Derek will be with me tonight. Tell Deucalion I will fetch for him in the morning.” Damian bowed his head with the dismissal, giving Derek one last death glare before he walked off. Derek followed Lenora up the stairs and down hallways. The hallways were long and dark, only lit by sconces on the walls. She unlocked the door to her room with a key, which surprised Derek. Her chambers were spacious with the walls lined with tapestries. Derek sat back on his haunches, watching as she walked around the room, taking her cloak off, letting her hair down in long tendrils. 

“You are not allowed to sleep,” she said, not looking at him as she pulled down her bedclothes, readying her bed to be slept in. “Unless I say so. You are my lookout,” she said nonchalantly. “Do not fail me.” 

Derek didn’t so much as flinch as she cast him a look that told him all he needed to know. It was a reminder about Stiles. If he could speak he would ask her what she was afraid of, why she needed him to be on the look out. Why couldn’t she just ward against others, like Erica had done. He couldn’t talk, though. He couldn’t ask questions. Derek turned his head towards the door as she undressed. He heard the rustling of her getting into bed, then relaxed. She left the lights on as he sat guard, his eyes not leaving the door. 

Staying awake was hard when he had traveled so far, gone through so much. He felt his eyes becoming heavy as he slowly lowered his body to the ground, his head remaining up as long as he could force it to. As soon as he allowed his head to drop to the ground, resting it on his paws, there was a knock at the door. Immediately he got up, growling as he bared his teeth. Rustling by the bed let him know that Lenora was awake. As she walked past him, she placed her hand on his head reassuring him. 

She opened the door, allowing a hooded figure in. Derek didn’t stop growling, moving to put himself between Lenora and the stranger. 

“Derek,” a familiar voice rang out, surprising him. The hood was discarded, revealing Alan Deaton. “It’s good to see you.” Derek backed up, away from Deaton as he wondered what he was doing with Lenora. He wished he could change into his human form, because he had so many questions that he wanted to ask, but the collar prevented him from doing so. He could feel its constant wave of magic coursing through him. “And you, Mistress,” Deaton said, taking Lenora’s hand in his, kissing her knuckles. 

“Deaton, it is good of you to come.” 

“Anything for you, Mistress.” 

“Please, be seated,” Lenora said, offering Deaton a seat by the fireplace. It wasn’t lit, considering the time of year, but there were two large chairs, cushioned and upholstered in fine fabrics. Deaton sat, then waited patiently for Lenora to sit. First, she set about lighting a few more oil lamps, giving the room more light. As she sat, she pointed her finger at the floor by her side. Derek moved without being prompted more than that, knowing that she wanted him there. Derek shut his eyes, keeping himself from shuddering as she placed a hand on his head once more. She pet him slowly as she turned her attention towards Deaton. 

“What is so urgent that you called for me?” Deaton asked her. Lenora took her time in answering, as if she was thinking of the wording, about how she wanted to go about whatever she had planned. 

“Despite obtaining Derek and Boyd, I worry about the witch Erica and the Alethiometer.” Derek’s ears perked up at the mention of Stiles, of Erica. “They have the Hedge Mage with them, Isaac. I don’t want them getting in the way of my plans.” 

“What are you asking of me?” Deaton inquired. Derek let out a low rumbling growl, knowing exactly what Lenora wanted. She wanted Deaton to infiltrate Evenstar, gain their trust, then lead them the wrong way. Lenora’s grip on Derek’s fur tightened, her nails digging into him. Derek stilled but dropped to the ground, out of her reach. Lenora’s eyebrow lifted, but she didn’t say anything. 

The collar was constricting. He felt claustrophobic with it on, unable to do anything about it. He was exhausted from both journeys and staying awake through the night. Derek was fading fast and he knew it. 

“I am asking you to travel to Evenstar. I want you to help Erica and Stiles.”

“Help them?” Deaton asked. “To do what?”

“To find me,” Lenora stated plainly. “Bring them here, where I am more powerful. I can deal with them then. As it is now, I can only enter Stiles’ mind. I want full control. To have the Alethiometer would be...an asset.” 

“Why didn’t you grab him while you could?” Deaton asked her. Derek was trying his damnedest not to move, to concentrate on his breathing. She hadn’t just wanted him, she wanted Stiles as well. Stiles was not safe. 

“I needed Derek and Boyd first,” she mused, her hand dropping down to Derek’s head one more. “Breaking them will be important.” Derek couldn’t keep himself from reacting, then. The word break had him shaking. Her kind touch was a false pretense. She was not done torturing him and Stiles, and now Derek had allowed himself to put the collar on. He felt sick. Derek let out an involuntary whine. When he looked up at Lenora, she was smiling down at him. “Tomorrow, Derek. For tonight, at least, you are spared.” She turned back to Deaton, her face unreadable. “Go to Evenstar, help them any way you can. I want the Alethiometer, I want the Hedge Mage, the witch. There is still time.”

“Yes, Mistress.” 

When Deaton left, silence filled the room. Derek couldn’t even look at Lenora, knowing that she had lied to him about Stiles’ safety. Lenora got up, then walked over to her bed without a word. 

“Sleep now, Derek. Because after tonight, you won’t want to.” 

Derek didn’t know what to think about the threat of the next day, of how hopeless he felt. He let his head rest on the floor, his back turned towards her. As his eyes closed all he could think about was Stiles and how he wished he could warn him about Deaton. 

Derek found himself suddenly aware. Darkness surrounded him, the ground nondescript, nothing telling of where he was that he could see as he looked around. It was eerily quiet as he recognized a scent he never thought that he would be able to smell again: Stiles. 

Stiles body lay mere feet in front of him, making Derek rush towards him on all fours, his tongue lapping at Stiles’ face. He knew he was asleep, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that the Stiles before him was the real Stiles and not just some figment of his imagination. Stiles stirred as Derek licked his hand again and again. 

“Derek,” Stiles called out as he dug his fingers in Derek’s mane. “You’re not real, you’re gone.” Derek’s heart sank as he realized that this was truly Stiles, but Stiles thought he wasn’t real. Tears fell from Stiles’ face as Derek whined, not wanting to upset Stiles. Derek’s heart swelled at the fact that they were in each other’s dream, but there was no way for Stiles to know that he was really Derek, his Derek. His bonded. 

Derek wanted to howl out in frustration when he remembered the bond was gone. “You feel real,” Stiles admitted. Derek tackled him then, elated that Stiles seemed to figure it out on his own. Derek pinned Stiles to the ground, his tail thwacking against the ground in happiness. He was just glad for this moment, this small sliver of hope that Stiles and he weren’t truly separated. 

“I’m going to find you,” Stiles said, his face buried in Derek’s fur. “Lydia and I are working on a way-”

Derek shook his head as he pushed himself away from Stiles. He needed to tell him not to, that he must not come for him. Lenora would have him, then. Derek panicked when he saw the black smoke. It was then that he remembered that Lenora always visited Stiles in his dreams. The look of horror on Stiles’ face as Derek was enveloped into the black abyss. The last thing Derek heard was Stiles screaming out his name before he woke up to Lenora standing over him with her hands on her hips. 

“You are going to regret that,” Lenora said as Derek felt magic flowing through him, forcing him to transform into a human. He lay naked before her, panting with tears in his eyes. He had seen Stiles, felt his touch. Somehow he had been in Stiles’ dream. He was overcome with emotions, unable to stop a sob from escaping his lips. “Stand up,” she ordered. Derek complied. “Tell me how you did it.”

“I don’t-,” Derek started but his voice was barely audible. 

“Louder!” 

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, _Mistress_ ,” Lenora seethed as a wave of pain coursed through him, making his muscles scream out. 

“I don’t know, Mistress,” Derek managed to get out. He felt like collapsing to the floor, his entire body was shaking from the strain. “He was just there, I was asleep.” Derek was shaking his head, unable to think of how he could have been there, how it could have been real. Lenora glared at him as she paced around the room before she dressed herself. 

“You are not to move. You are to remain standing. Do anything other than stand there, in that spot, and you will regret it,” she said as she walked out of the room. 

Derek was left alone, his cheeks tear-stained and muscles aching, begging him to sit down. He didn’t dare move, for fear of the consequences. All he could think about was Stiles, about the dream. It had been real. Lenora didn’t know Derek was going to be there, and she didn’t know how he did it. It scared Derek and gave him hope at the same time. Perhaps if he was to sleep again, Stiles would be there waiting for him once more. 

Time passed by slowly as Derek stood there alone in Lenora’s room. He wasn’t sure how much time had actually passed, but as the sun rose and its light filled the room, he knew it had been at least a few hours. He made the mistake of drifting off, of moving from the spot that Lenora told him to stand on. The pain was excruciating, like lightning strumming through his veins, his blood boiling as he tried to step back in the exact spot she told him to remain in. He shook with the strain it put on his body, sweat dripping from him as he willed himself not to move again. Derek counted the number of stones on the wall, the number of tassels hanging from a tapestry, anything to keep from thinking about Lenora, about Stiles, about his being left alone in her room. 

By the time Derek heard footsteps approaching, he was ready to collapse. When the door to the room opened, Derek held in his emotions as he licked his lips which were cracked, dry. He cast his eyes to the floor, not wanting to look her in the eye. He saw her dress, heard the click of her shoes on the floorboards. He heard water being poured into a glass, then her approach. 

“Derek, my pet, drink.” Derek looked up to see her holding a glass close to his lips. It had water in it. He thought for a moment, about denying himself the water. The thought alone made a sound of protest escape his lips as he parted his lips. The touch of the glass on his mouth, of the water rushing into his mouth, had him moaning. He reached his hands up for the cup, but Lenora pulled the glass back. “No. I will do it.” 

Derek dropped his hands, then waited for more. He drank as fast as he could, coughing when he swallowed too much at once. “Slow down,” she urged him. He gasped when he finally breathed after finishing the entire glass. She poured more, this time touching the glass to her own lips, sipping it slowly. 

“You may sit,” she said. Derek cried out in pain as he did so, collapsing to the ground. His muscles screamed at him, his hands kneading into his thighs, his calves, trying to ease their suffering. Lenora sat down in the same chair as before, when she was talking with Deaton. “I’m going to keep you close,” she said after being silent for some time. She was watching Derek for a reaction, but he gave none. 

He sat there, his knuckles massaging his own legs, refusing to look up at her. He was still naked except for the collar. He felt exposed, vulnerable. Derek grit his teeth, hissing as he switched legs. 

“Look at me.” Derek’s gaze snapped up as he locked eyes with her. “If you thought me making you stand for hours was punishment, you are sorely mistaken.”

“If you think killing my sister and taking me from my bonded wasn’t punishment enough then I can’t help you,” Derek spat. “I’m already broken,” he told her. “I am of no use to you.” 

Lenora smiled down at him, making Derek’s eyes drop back to the floor. “I don’t understand what you want from me.” 

“I want devotion,” she said simply, as if Derek could just hand it over to her. “I want protection.”

“From what?” Derek asked her. “What can I possibly protect you from?”

“Not just you,” Lenora admitted. “You are stronger as a pack.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t need to answer anything,” Lenora said as she stood up. “You are mine now, and you need to learn just what that means.” 

“What does it mean, then?” He asked. Lenora lifted an eyebrow at him, then clapped her hands three times. Damian entered the room with a whip in hand. Derek flinched at the sight of it. “Damian, I want him to bleed for me. Make him scream my name. I want his tears delivered in a vial. I will need them for a spell.” 

Derek shook his head as he was hauled to his feet. 

“No-” Lenora’s piercing gaze stopped him from uttering another word. 

“Do not cage him. Instead, make him stand. Do not feed him until I say so. Have the others watch.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

As Derek was led to the barn, he thought about Stiles. Damian tied his hands together, raising them above his head, hooking them there. Derek shut his eyes, breathed in and out. He thought about Adara. He pictured her running out in front of him as they walked, of her leaping and pouncing around his and Stiles’ feet as the whip cracked across his back. Derek thought about Stiles’ touch, about Adara’s nose nudging him awake in the morning. One, two, three, four lashings in a row. Derek screamed, his eyes shut tight as he felt blood dripping down his back as he tried to arch away from the pain. He let out a shuddering breath as his mind traveled elsewhere. Stiles’ smile, his laugh, the feel of him as he lay sleeping beside Derek in bed, the rise and fall of his chest. Derek shut down, partitioning his mind, leaving true consciousness as he drowned in memories. It was all he could do, in the end, to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience on getting this chapter! real life is crazy, and it is about to get crazier. Feedback gives me life!


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles lay there with his eyes closed, not ready to be fully awake. He could feel the rise and fall of Adara’s breathing from where she lay beside him. He was not in his own bed, that much he knew. It didn’t smell of him and Derek, of Adara. The sheets were crisper, not as broken in and soft. He was at the Inn. A cough in the room forced Stiles’ eyes open. His father sat in a chair not far from him, a frown set across his the features of his face. 

“How long was I out for?” Stiles asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, his eyes casting towards the glass of water that sat on the bedside table, waiting for him to drink it. He sat up, wincing at the throbbing in his back, residual pain from his curse. He drank the entire glass full of water before his father answered his question. 

“Two days.” Stiles’s eyes widened at the length. “We didn’t want to wake you if you weren’t having nightmares.“ Stiles shook his head, his fingers rubbing at his eyes as he tried to recall his dream. He remembered Derek, he knew Lenora had been there, but he couldn’t remember what had happened. 

He knew it had been important, but it was slipping from his mind. He concentrated, trying to grasp it before he lost it completely. He recalled her hand on his throat, words being spoken but he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember-

 _His life_. That was the card he had to play, his only card he could play. His life was what he had to give up in order to free Derek from the Dreamwalker. Stiles’ stomach roiled as he covered his mouth with his hand while pushing the covers back with his other. He rushed out of the room, practically running down the hallway and jumping down the stairs until he burst outside. He threw up on the ground, his hands clutching at the dirt as he coughed up the contents of his stomach until his eyes watered. He could save Derek, but it would mean giving up his own life. Stiles was shaking when he felt a warm hand on his back, soothing him. Stiles shut his eyes, knowing it wasn’t Derek but his father. 

“What is it, son? Do you need to talk about what happened?” Stiles shook his head repeatedly. No, he wouldn’t be telling anyone about this. No one would allow him to go through with it. He had to think it through, plan his timing wisely. He had to make sure it would work first. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles heard himself say. “I just drank the water too fast,” he lied. He looked up at his father, who gave him a hand helping him back to his feet. “Where is Lydia? Has the brand been made?” Stiles asked, dusting himself off. It was only then that he realized that he was shirtless, still, and that he was only wearing a pair of loose undergarments. At least he hadn’t run out of the Inn like a madman stark naked. His father gave him a look that let Stiles know that he was not on board with the idea. 

“She and Erica will be by later,” was the only thing that the Sheriff said about the matter. Stiles knew that his father wasn’t fond of magic, that he would rather Stiles not go through with it. Stiles didn’t have a choice, though. He needed to rid himself of the Dreamwalker. He needed to have his mind back fully. Stiles thought about Laura, about her blood on his hands. He shut his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, his breaths shaky and unstable. “You need food and your strength.”

“Nothing solid,” Stiles murmured as his father put a hand on his bare shoulder, guiding him inside, passing by Stiles’ mess on the ground. He doubted he’d be able to hold anything substantial down. 

Stiles ate, bathed, then laid in bed with Adara, staring at the bare walls of the room Melissa had chosen for him. It had no homeliness to it, nothing that could possibly remind him of his and Derek’s cabin. He ached for Derek, deep within his bones. He felt the separation, making it hard to breathe as he pet Adara, whose tail swished back and forth slowly. They waited for word from Lydia and Erica. Word would get out that he was awake, and they would come. Until then, Stiles rested. 

Once more, he had Derek’s shirt on. It felt softer than his shirts, safer. He wasn’t sure if it was all just in his mind or not, but that was how he felt about it. He wanted to keep what little he had left of Derek near him. 

A knock at the door had Stiles bolting upright, his eyes wide. 

“Come in,” he called out. It wasn’t Lydia or Erica, but Scott and Allison who appeared in the doorway. Stiles let a smile slip between his lips, his body relaxing immediately at the sight of them. They had a tray of food with them, more soup. Stiles’ brow furrowed, but then he looked out the window, seeing that it was near dusk. Allison lit an oil lamp as Scott sat the tray down on the bed nearby Stiles. 

“Mom said we could come up, keep you company,” Scott said as he pulled up a chair that had been in the corner of the room. Allison sat on the opposite edge of the bed, her daemon remaining on the floor by her feet. Scott’s sat atop his shoulder, watching Stiles with beady, silent eyes. Stiles’ hand never left Adara, his fingers raking across her belly as she turned over onto her back. She was happy they got company. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said. “I’m still really sore from... everything.” 

Scott nodded at him, despite not really understanding what all Stiles had gone through. It wasn’t just the pain from Lydia using his curse, but of his mind being overtaken, what happened with Laura, the funeral, Derek being taken from him... Stiles felt like he could sleep for another week, if only he could. He needed that brand, first. Stiles perked up, registering the fact that Scott must have helped Danny with the band. 

“Did you and Danny-”

“Yes,” Scott said, interrupting him. “The brand is with Isaac, Lydia, and Erica. They have had it for a day... I think they are testing it?” 

Stiles’ shoulders slumped. He knew if they had it, they would be working on it. He scratched idly at his hands, his face falling. All he wanted was to be able to sleep. “You look better, I mean... The bags under your eyes aren’t as bad now.”

Stiles couldn’t help himself: he laughed. It felt wrong, laughing. He clutched his stomach, falling back on the bed, sloshing the soup slightly, making it spill onto the tray as he continued. He couldn’t stop, his head shaking as a hand covered his mouth. It hadn’t even been funny, not in the slightest. He couldn’t catch his breath. He caught a glimpse of Scott, who looked worried, and laughed even harder. 

Bags under his eyes was the least of his worries, but still. Scott was trying to make him feel better. Allison cracked a smile as Stiles sat back up, wiping tears from his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time he had laughed. He sighed at the end of a laugh, calming down enough that he could take a drink of water. 

“I feel better,” Stiles answered, finally. He grabbed at the bread that was with the soup, dunking it in the broth, soaking up some of it before putting the piece of bread in his mouth. “I’ll feel even better once that brand is on.” Scott and Allison exchanged looks. 

“I don’t know if you should, Stiles,” Scott said. Allison nodded her head in agreement.

“I need this,” Stiles stated, dunking the bread once more, this time a little more angrily. He didn’t want his best friend against him, not with his sanity on the line. He was stretched thin as it was. He couldn’t back down, not if this was their only choice. 

“We know, it’s just, we don’t want what happened with Laura-”

“It won’t,” Stiles said a little too forcefully, making Allison jump in her seat. Stiles crossed his arms, frowning at the two of them. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“You couldn’t control her,” Allison pointed out. Stiles rubbed at his face with both hands, groaning out his frustration. “I don’t want her to hurt you, let alone anyone else.”

“Then how about you be there, if she takes over me, kill me. That way-”

“No!” Scott said, breaking Stiles’ train of thought. “There is no way we are shooting you with arrows, Stiles.” 

“It would free Derek,” Stiles pointed out.

“Yeah? And you’d be dead, so... end of discussion,” Scott said, crossing his arms to mimic Stiles. 

“I trust them, with my life. Isaac wanted to do the brand in the first place. The amulet wasn’t strong enough.” Stiles’ father appeared at the door to his room, a frown on his face to match Scott and Allison’s. 

“Erica stopped by, she said once your strength returns, they can do the brand.”

“I’ll go now,” Stiles said, pushing the tray of food out of his way so he could get out of bed. Scott stood up, stopping him. 

“He said when your strength returns.” 

Stiles was reaching for his pants on the floor when Scott grabbed his wrist. Stiles pulled it away, his face contorting with anger. 

“It won’t return until I get some sleep, Scott.” He turned to his dad, his finger jabbing at the air. “I can’t get better until I am free of her. You have to let me do this.” His father put his hands up in surrender. Scott, though, didn’t seem to want Stiles to get dressed. Stiles arched an eyebrow at him. “Scott, let go of my pants.” 

“Scott, let him,” Allison said from her spot on the bed. Her hands were in her lap, her head hung low. “I’ll go with him.” Stiles chanced a glance at Allison as he got dressed, gulping at the insinuation. If Isaac was wrong and the brand didn’t work, Allison would kill him before he hurt anyone else in the village. A shiver went down Stiles’ spine as he nodded his head. 

“Thanks.” 

He and Allison walked together to Lydia’s, Stiles holding a lantern to see by. Lydia met them at the door, leaning against it with her head tilted with a small smile spread thin across her mouth. 

“You know, we did say when you were rested.”

“Can’t rest until I am branded,” Stiles shrugged as they walked up the steps to the house. Unsurprisingly Danny, Erica, Isaac and Jackson were all there. Stiles felt their gaze on him, on the fact that the shirt he was wearing was obviously Derek’s by its size. It was too big for him chest wise, Derek was built differently than he was, despite them being almost the same height. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” 

Danny snorted, shaking his head from where he sat. Stiles was going for lighthearted with the situation for a reason. He didn’t want anyone to know exactly how scared he was that this wouldn’t work. He needed it to on so many levels. He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t. He didn’t know what would happen if something went wrong. At least he had Allison and her bow with him. She wouldn’t miss, she never did. Her aim was true. Stiles cast her a look before he stepped fully into the room. The fire was going, making the room toasty despite the warmth of the weather. 

Lydia had to have known he would come as soon as he was told he could. Why else would Danny be here, along with Isaac?

“Okay, if you are sure,” Lydia said as she put a hand on his shoulder. Stiles nodded his head, letting out a sigh, readying himself. 

“I am.” 

Stiles took his shirt off, thinking it would go somewhere on his chest or back. Lydia gave him a look, lifting an eyebrow. His curse covered him. There was no room for an intricate brand. Stiles bit his lip, looking at his arms and stomach. 

“Uh-” 

“Off with your pants,” Lydia said, tugging at them. “There has to be some part of you that isn’t marked already.” Stiles blushed, gulping as he looked around the room. No one said anything as he unlaced his leather pants, then started taking his boots off. He shoved them, and his undergarments, down his legs, stepping out of them. He cleared his throat, looking up at the ceiling. He felt everyone’s gaze on him, contemplating where to put the brand. Stiles shuddered involuntarily. 

“Here,” Isaac spoke up, placing a finger on Stiles’ lower stomach, near one of his pelvic bones. “Here will work well.” 

Stiles covered the spot that Isaac chose for it. The brand was small, despite its intricacy, barely being wider than three finger widths. Stiles looked at it before Danny placed it in the fire, heating it up. Stiles reached a hand down, covering himself up as best he could until it was ready. 

“I think laying down will help,” Danny suggested. Stiles followed his direction, relieved when Lydia draped a cloth over him. It made him feel more comfortable with the fact that Jackson was standing over him. “Jackson is going to hold you down, along with Erica and Lydia.” Stiles nodded his understanding. He was going to thrash, scream. It was going to hurt, burn into him. Forever scarred. 

He was ready. 

“Bite down on this,” Erica said as she put a stick in his mouth, then ran her fingers through his hair in a comforting manner. Stiles gulped as he bit down on the stick. He started counting, breathing deeply as Lydia lifted his arms above his head, pinning them to the floor as Jackson held him down by his shoulders. Erica moved to his feet, practically sitting on him and putting all of her body weight on him. Stiles’ eyes shot to Allison, who had her bow and arrow pointed at him, just in case. Stiles then turned his gaze to Isaac and Danny, who were readying the brand. It was red hot as it left the fire. Isaac murmured something, barely audible as Danny neared Stiles. Stiles tried to remain still, but his chest was heaving with the anticipation. As the brand touched his skin he screamed through the stick. It burned, seared his skin. The room smelled of cooked meat, blackened skin. Stiles heard Adara scream out for him somewhere in the room, but the pain was disorienting. 

He couldn’t stop screaming as tears fell freely from his eyes. Jackson got off him, as did Erica. But Lydia remained, her fingers linking with his. A cool cloth was placed on his head as Isaac knelt by the brand, his hands hovering over it. It cooled almost immediately, which had Stiles wide eyed and confused as he tried to look at it. 

It was raw, scorched, and glowing. Stiles tried sitting up, but Lydia’s grip tightened, keeping him horizontal. He still had the stick in his mouth as he watched Isaac make it glow brighter and brighter until finally it died down. The pain was there, throbbing and heated, but it wasn’t unbearable. 

“Well, that went well,” Allison spoke up, dropping her bow to the side. Stiles laughed, closing his eyes. He felt everyone looking at him, but he didn’t care. The brand was on him, and now he would be able to sleep. That was all he wanted to do. He could fall asleep then and there on the hardwood floor and be perfectly content. 

“Depends on what happens now,” Isaac said with a sigh. “The glowing was a good sign, though.” Lydia released her grip on Stiles finally, letting him lean up on an elbow as he removed the stick from his mouth. Adara was by his side, sniffing at the brand. 

“Can I sleep?” Stiles asked. 

“Not on the floor, you can’t,” Lydia said, her hands on her hips as she stood over him. “Danny and Allison are going to help get you ho- to the Inn.” 

Stiles bit his lip at her slip up. He wouldn’t be going home. That would be unbearable, to go back to the empty cabin with his and Derek’s things strewn around like nothing was amiss. Stiles sat up, his fingers ghosting across the skin nearby the brand. It was tender, making him hiss. He pulled on his pants, but left them unlaced due to how low the brand was. He didn’t want anything to rub against it. 

“Now, in the morning I want you to apply this salve to the brand,” Isaac said as he handed Stiles a jar. Stiles took it, nodding his head. “I am going to come by to check on you, see how it’s doing as well.” 

“Alright,” Stiles said as he peered at the jar’s contents. He opened it, sniffing the salve. It smelt horrible, making him gag as he recovered it. “I don’t want this.” Isaac chuckled. 

“Yeah, you will.” Stiles scowled at him as Allison and Danny headed for the door. He followed them, walking gingerly so that nothing chafed the brand. The Inn seemed so much farther than it normally did with the pace that Stiles chose for himself. His limbs felt heavy, his eyes staying closed longer than normal as he followed the lantern light. 

Danny dropped him and Allison off, then headed home. Scott was there, waiting for them to return, sitting up with his mother and Stiles’ father. Melissa rushed over as Stiles walked through the door, checking his open wound. 

“That looks horrible, Stiles,” she told him. Stiles shrugged as he leaned against the banister that led upstairs. He yawned, unable to help himself. It was as though the brand was somehow telling his mind that it was okay to sleep, finally. He could barely keep his eyes open. “You go on up, I am going to bring some water and a cloth-”

“No,” Allison said so that Stiles didn’t have to. “Isaac gave him a salve, something about the magic... it can’t be treated like a normal burn.” Melissa looked skeptical but nodded her head. Stiles almost stumbled his way upstairs. He wasn’t at all surprised to feel Scott helping him up the stairs and into bed. Stiles shimmied back out of his pants before falling onto the bed. He didn’t normally sleep on his back, but he supposed he would have to. Adara curled up by his pillow, waiting for him to get situated as Scott crossed his arms worriedly. 

“What’s up, Scott?” Stiles asked as he draped an arm over his eyes. He didn’t even have sheets covering him, only his undergarments, a thin pair of cotton underwear on. He hoped he didn’t get cold, but he at least had Adara for some warmth. 

“I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right about this whole thing.” Stiles had his eyes closed but he imagined Scott making some grand gesture at him, indicating his brand. “I am worried.” 

“M’ fine,” Stiles mumbled. Sleep was calling him. It was becoming harder and harder to remain awake. “Allison can shoot me.” And with that, darkness took Stiles. 

Stiles dreamt that he was in chains, collared and forced into a cage with little to no food or water. He felt himself shaking out of anger, out of fear. Stench surrounded him, filth. He held his nose, breathing through his mouth as best he could. The sound of a whip cracking made him jump both physically and mentally. 

An old stone house, the size of five Inns stood before him with fog rolling in from the surrounding forest. A chill swept through him, deep into his bones, causing him to hug his own arms as he looked up to the only window that was lit up. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat as he saw her there, staring down at him. Stiles shut his eyes tight, swallowing his fear. When he opened them he was looking down at Derek, who was staring up at him in his wolf form. 

Stiles smiled, relief flooding through him. He was calm here. They were at the cabin in the woods, where they had made stew, where they had touched each other for the first time. It was their safe haven. Stiles knew that Lenora would not find them here. 

“I found my way,” Stiles told Derek as he reached out for him. “I found a way to keep her out.” Derek’s fur was soft, like it always was. Derek closed his eyes as Stiles pulled him close, falling to his knees. The earth beneath his feet was sodden, as if it had just rained. It even smelled of rain, steam rising from the ground from the humidity. “I wish you could speak, can’t you turn into a human?” Stiles asked as his lips pressed against Derek’s muzzle. Derek whined, shaking his head. As he did so Stiles’ fingers felt it: a collar. 

Stiles reared back, his eyes wide. 

“What the-” Stiles tugged at the seamless metal. “How?” He asked. Derek sat there, sighing as he looked at the ground. “We have to get this off of you.” Derek growled, then. It wasn’t something Stiles was used to being pointed at him. He huffed out in exasperation, looking around the campsite. “Where is Addie?” 

He hadn’t noticed she wasn’t with him. She normally was in his dreams. He didn’t know why it took so long for him to notice, except that time worked differently in dreams than it did in real life. 

Derek licked Stiles face, his big paws on Stiles’ thighs as he kept licking and licking him. Stiles couldn’t stop himself from smiling, laughing as Derek forced him to the ground. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, letting him smother him. 

“She must have stayed behind,” Stiles said into Derek’s fur. “I’ll give her a kiss for you when I get back.” Derek laid on top of Stiles, laying his head down across Stiles’ neck. Stiles didn’t want to move, despite Derek’s heavy form atop of him. He could feel him breathing. Derek felt so real, the whole place did. He could hear crickets, feel the wind, see the sun’s beams coming through the trees. “I don’t want to wake up,” Stiles admitted. 

Derek huffed, his head nodding before he licked at Stiles’ neck. As Stiles ran his fingers through Derek’s fur thunder cracked, jerking him awake. He sat upright in bed, his fingers clenched at his sides. He looked around the bed for Adara, finding it empty. 

“Addie,” Stiles whispered in a panic as he got to his feet. It was pouring rain outside, lightening lit up the sky long enough that Stiles saw Adara by the door. Claw marks marred the floorboards by the door. She had been trying to get out. “Addie, what’s wrong?” Stiles asked. 

“You were glowing,” Adara whimpered. “It was scary.” 

“Glowing?” Stiles asked, looking down at his body. The brand was there, dark and sore. “Like with my curse?” 

“No, different,” Adara told him. 

Stiles lit an oil lamp, exploring the damage that Adara made to the floor. He rubbed at his eyes, his fingers then moving to her fur. 

“I had a dream,” he said. “Derek was there. I’m to give you a kiss.” 

“Was he human?” Adara asked as Stiles picked her up, kissing her by the ear, then on her nose. Stiles frowned, shaking his head. 

“The wolf.” 

“So you can’t talk? How do you know it is him?”

“I just do.”

“No Lenora?” Adara asked. At that, Stiles shook his head. He didn’t count her in the window. It was as if that was Lenora trying to enter his mind, but being unable to. 

“Nope. Lenora free dreams on this end,” Stiles said with a smile. Adara licked him, then, on his neck where Derek had. Stiles shivered. It felt, for a moment, like the bond had. It faded as soon as he felt it, though. It was gone within moments, like a fast fading dream once you woke up, unable to grasp it for long before it disappeared completely from memory. 

Stiles’ fingers ghosted across his neck, trying to hold onto the feeling of the bond, trying to recall how it felt. He looked down at his palm where it should be, but it was naked, blank. He sighed, standing up. It was still dark out, despite the lightning and thunder. He crawled back into bed, making himself comfortable as he listened to the wind and the rain. As he drifted off to sleep once more he thought he could hear his mother’s voice riding on the back of the wind, but he couldn’t make out what she was trying to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thank you for your patience! updates will be sparse between now and mid-july. to keep updated feel free to follow me on [tumblr](http://slipintothewater.tumblr.com) or [](http://twitter.com/anfieldatheart</a>twitter!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed added warnings in the tags.

Stiles woke up to Adara pulling his covers off of him. He groaned as he reached for them, but she was too quick with the linen between her teeth. She sat at the edge of the bed, a paw on his exposed foot, pushing at him. 

“Come on,” she whined. “You’ve been sleeping forever.” 

“Not forever,” Stiles mumbled into his pillow as he buried his face. He wasn’t ready to get up, not in the slightest. He spent three days in bed. Exhaustion had kept him there as his body recovered from not sleeping for so long. Without Lenora haunting his dreams, he was finally able to rest. “Let me sleep, Addie.” 

“It’s nice out, let’s go outside.” 

Stiles groaned at her insistence that he get up. He just didn’t have it in himself to move. He reached a hand out to the other side of the bed, where normally Derek would be. Stiles let his palm rest there on the cold sheets. Derek was never there, he couldn’t have been in the Inn’s bed with him. Stiles retracted his hand, pulling it close to his chest as he rolled onto his side, looking at Adara. 

“You go outside.” 

Adara’s ears flattened, her head bowing slightly as she watched him from her perch at the end of the bed. 

“The sun will help you feel better,” she told him. Stiles sighed, closing his eyes, then rubbing at them. Stiles almost told her that it wouldn’t when there was a knock at the door. Stiles cleared his throat before calling out. 

“I’m up.” Lydia walked in, followed by Isaac. Stiles shifted so that he was laying on his back. The last couple of days they had come in more than a few times to check the brand, to put salve on it and to make sure he didn’t have a fever from it. Stiles was wearing his thin undergarments pushed down low on his hips so that they wouldn’t brush the still-sore brand. 

“Are you going to be staying up, this time?” Lydia asked. Stiles shook his head, covering his eyes with the crook of his arm as he licked his lips. Stiles could hear Lydia sigh at him. 

“Too tired,” Stiles answered weakly. He twitched as he felt the cooling sensation of the salve being applied, its magic seeping into him, making his skin tingle. Isaac murmured something under his breath, making the brand glow. Adara hated when Isaac did that. She growled as she bounded up towards Stiles’ chest, burying her head in his armpit. Stiles couldn’t stop himself from laughing a little bit. His curse had glowed and Adara had never seemed scared of that, he didn’t see why the brand would be any different. 

“I think it is time to get you out of bed,” Lydia said as she grabbed his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up and downstairs in time for lunch.” 

She tugged him out of bed, steering him out the door and down the hall to the washroom. Steaming water was coming from the water basin, waiting for him. Stiles lifted an eyebrow at her. “You smell and it is time to stop moping.” 

“I’m not moping,” Stiles frowned as he reached for a cloth and the soap, dipping them in the warm water. Lydia smirked at him, then left him there, closing the door behind her. 

“You better be downstairs in ten minutes or you’ll have me to deal with!” 

Stiles scoffed to himself as he cleaned up, scrubbing himself down, careful to avoid the brand and the salve. He didn’t like washing up, he’d rather soak in a bath then scrub down with a cloth and soap. But a bath would remind him of Derek, and washing each other and taking their time. Stiles’ face contorted as he tried not to think about Derek. 

He finished washing up, then made his way back to his room to dress. He slipped Derek’s shirt back on, taking a moment to smell it. It still smelled of Derek, despite of how often Stiles had been wearing it. Stiles tugged at the pieces of cloth wrapped around his wrists that Laura had given him, the ones that hid his shackle scars. He bit his bottom lip as he looked around the room, his eyes falling on his beanie and scarf that his mother had made him. His throat constricted when he saw them. He hadn’t brought them over from the cabin, someone else must have done it, but that didn’t matter. Stiles grabbed the worn beanie and put it on, despite the warmth outside. Between the beanie, the shirt, and the tied ribbons around his wrist, he felt safer, calmer. They were his anchor, giving him strength to step outside his room. 

Derek’s shirt was big enough that it didn’t brush against his brand as he walked, since Derek’s chest was wider than his. Stiles’ lean muscle was different than that of Derek’s sheer mass. Stiles was agile, lithe and sinewy whereas Derek was rugged, solid, and a force to be reckoned with. 

Barefooted, Stiles made his way downstairs, walking slowly since he was unable to properly lace up his pants still. He doubted they would fall since they were tight fitting against his thighs, but still. Stiles had not been expecting to find everyone downstairs at the table. The entire village was there, packed comfortably around the massive table. Stiles stopped walking, actually taking a step back towards the stairs. He had no idea there was going to be a village wide meeting; no one had told him or warned him about it. 

“Stiles, son, have a seat,” his father said from the head of the table. There was an empty seat next next to the Sheriff. Stiles silently sat down between his father and Scott. “Now that we are all gathered,” he said to the entire group. “We can discuss what comes next.” 

“Next?” Stiles asked, confused. 

“Yes, the next step to ensuring nothing else happens to the village. We need to make sure that everyone remains safe, now.” Stiles’ brow furrowed as he listened to his father’s words. “Isaac and Erica are working to strengthen the border and the wards. Scott and I are putting together a watch list while Jackson and Danny work at building a watchtower-”

“But what about Boyd and Derek?” Stiles asked, interrupting as he looked around the table. “Are we just going to forget that they were kidnapped? That they were taken?” Stiles looked at Erica, his eyes not leaving hers. She visibly sagged. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it for just a moment before he dropped it. 

“I doubt that there is anything we can do-” Stiles stood up, his fists slamming down against the table. He had been sleeping for days and suddenly everyone decided to move on like nothing had happened. They were treating the situation as if Derek and Boyd had died, just like Laura. That there was nothing that could be done about it. 

“We can go after them,” Stiles hissed as he looked to Lydia. “Lydia what did you decipher-”

“Stiles, we aren’t talking about that right now,” his father said, his tone calm but firm. Stiles gritted his teeth as he clenched his jaw. They were keeping something from him and he didn’t like it. 

“We need your help here.” 

“Bullshit,” Stiles spat. “We need to go find them.” 

“In time,” Lydia spoke up. “Stiles it will take time. We can’t just go barging in. She is powerful, and she isn’t alone. You saw the wolves, and she has other people on her side more powerful than any of us.” 

“You forget that we lost them too,” Allison said. “They were part of this community, and we all want them back, but we need a plan. You’ve been out of it, Stiles. You haven’t left that room in days. We need to defend the village, make it stronger before we leave it.” 

Stiles knew they were all right, but he couldn’t get his hands to unclench. All he wanted was to get Derek back, to save Boyd. Stiles slowly sat back down. When he did, Scott placed his hand on Stiles’ thigh, patting it lightly. 

“We understand,” Scott whispered as the Sheriff started talking about how Danny and Scott were working on weapons, how Melissa and Allison were going to go to market to sell off the rest of Laura’s dyed cloth in order to buy supplies for Erica and Isaac’s spells and how Lydia would be joining them to stock her apothecary. “I understand, and Allison has talked to Lydia about what she read off of the symbols on your back. Lydia had a hard time deciphering it. We will talk later.” Stiles nodded at Scott, breathing easy for the first time since the meeting began. 

Stiles was to help build the new watchtower, which he was fine with doing. It would keep him busy, at least for the time being. After the meeting there was a massive lunch. Stiles was full after two helpings where he had filled his plate with venison, freshly made tomato basil soup, three types of breads and cheeses, and an orange. He helped clean up with Melissa and Allison, scrubbing dishes and scraping leftover food into the compost heap behind the Inn. 

After he was done, he went out in search for Lydia. She wasn’t hard to find. In her shop she was busy making an inventory list of supplies that she needed from market. She didn’t even look up at him when he entered the shop. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about what you want to discuss,” Lydia admitted as she wrote down ‘wormwood’ on her list. She turned back around, looking at various vials and jars that lined the shelves of her shop. Stiles crossed his arms and waited. 

“Yes, I know where they are,” she said, finally after a long silence. “But I don’t think that means we should just go running off after them.” 

“Why?” Stiles asked. 

“Because,” Lydia said, turning around so that she could look him in the eye. “One of us is going to die if we go.” Stiles bristled. That didn’t matter to him because he knew it would be him. He was going to give his own life to free them, only Lydia didn’t know that. “And it isn’t you,” she added. 

“What?” Stiles asked, his arms dropping. “How do you-”

“Stiles, what about you being the Alethiometer do you not understand? I got _answers_ and most of them? Are not happy.” 

“How can you know who is going to die?”

“I don’t know who!” Lydia said, her voice getting louder. “I don’t know, but what I do know is in order for Lenora to fall, one of us will die. We can’t leave, though. Not yet.”

“Why not?” Stiles asked, exasperated. Lydia bit her lip, looking unsure that she wanted to continue. 

“Because someone from your past has to come to your aid first.” 

“Like who?” 

“That’s just it,” Lydia pointed out. “I don’t know. It isn’t like the Alethiometer, you, is very clear. It is vague. Answers come out like riddles and they are hard, tough to crack. I’m not even sure I deciphered it correctly.”

“Okay,” Stiles said as he walked around the counter and grabbed a stool, sitting on it as he put his hands in his lap. “Start with the beginning. I just want to know what you know.”

“You have to understand that it could be wrong, though,” Lydia reiterated. Stiles nodded as he gnawed on his bottom lip. He would try to keep that in mind. “First, I told you I know where they are. It’s more than a week from here, towards the coast.” Lydia waited a moment to see if Stiles would make a comment. When he didn’t she continued on. “Then, as I said, we can’t leave until someone from your past comes back into your life. We need them, you need them, actually. A group of seven go to the coast, no more and no less.” 

“I know who I want to take with me.” 

“It can’t be me,” Lydia said with a frown. 

“I wasn’t going to ask you to go,” Stiles admitted. “You’ve been through too much, with Morrell and the Magisterium. I wouldn’t ask you to risk your life for me, for Derek.” 

“That isn’t why, Stiles,” Lydia said as she reached out for his hand. “I would go in a heartbeat but the last question I asked the Alethiometer was if I had a part to play besides what I have already done and it told me no. I can’t be a part of this after we talk, it is why I wanted to wait, so I can make sure I tell you everything.” Stiles didn’t want Lydia to be completely left out, not when they had become so close. “Lenora has a henchman, who is also powerful, but in different ways than her. Be careful of him, Stiles. Her wolves are slaves, just like Derek and Boyd, beaten into submission. All but one of them, named Deucalion. Her reasoning behind her changeling army is that she is scared of a Great Wizard, but that is all I know.” 

“That’s all?” Stiles asked. He had thought she would have more information. 

“I’m making you healing potions to take with you, in case. And poisons, anything I can before I’m not allowed to help anymore. I had most already mixed, so I don’t think it will mess too much with what the Alethiometer told me.” 

“How does that work?” Stiles asked. “What would happen if you went against what the Alethiometer said? What is stopping you from changing the future?” 

“It didn’t say the future, per se. It can’t, the future moves constantly with our every decision and thought. I have another path I need to go down,” Lydia admitted. “But it is something I can’t share with anyone else. Melissa, Allison and I are going to market in the morning. You aren’t to leave without us returning with supplies, do you understand me?” Stiles nodded, conceding. He wouldn’t leave without their returning first. 

That night, he couldn’t wait to go to sleep. It was what he had been waiting for, to be able to see Derek again. It was the reason he slept for three days straight: he wanted to be with Derek. Derek wasn’t always there when Stiles fell asleep, but that didn’t deter him. Stiles crawled into bed, pulling Adara close to him as he got comfortable. 

“I think I know why it glows,” Stiles murmured as he felt himself drifting off to sleep. Adara stirred beside him, her fur standing on edge at the mention of it. 

“Why does it?”

“It means the brand is working,” Stiles said as he let out a sigh. “It means Lenora is trying to enter a dream, if it glows when I am asleep it means...” Stiles let out a long yawn, interrupting his sentence. “It means that she can’t get in, but not for lack of trying.” 

“That makes it even scarier,” Adara said, pawing at the sheets. Stiles kissed her head as he closed his eyes. It didn’t scare him, not when it was working. He hadn’t seen her but the one time, in the window. His dreams were now his safe haven, where he and Derek could be together. 

Stiles was almost asleep when he heard it: his mother’s voice. He sat upright in bed, looking towards the window, straining to hear the words. All he could hear was the wind, nothing more. Stiles got up, grabbing Derek’s shirt as he made his way to the door. Adara whined from where she lay on the bed. Stiles pulled the shirt over his head then looked back at her. 

“Come on, Addie.” 

They walked quietly down the hallway making their way down the stairs. There was no fire in the fireplace, and it was pitch black outside as Stiles shut the door to the Inn behind him. He stopped, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, and so that he could listen. It didn’t take long for a gust of wind to pick up, his mother’s voice riding the back of it as it whipped Derek’s shirt around him, rubbing against the brand. Stiles covered the brand with his hand, his fingers feeling the tender skin. 

“They are coming,” his mother’s voice echoed. “The Wise One and his ward, The Defector, and The Mole.” 

“Defector?” Stiles asked as he stepped out onto the grass. He was barefoot again, not even wearing his leather pants. Outfitted in only his underwear and Derek’s long-sleeved linen shirt, Stiles began walking to the field he knew well, the field where Derek was taken from him. He knew he could hear her best there, at the edge of the village. 

“You must have faith. Not all those who have harmed you in the past are untrustworthy.” A chill went down Stiles’ back at his mother’s words. He didn’t know what to make of them. 

“Who is the mole?” Stiles asked. “Whose side are they on really?” 

“That I do not know, but they are coming. They are already on their way.” 

“Who is the Wise One? Is it the Great Wizard?” 

“Our curse has showed you the way, do not falter from it.”

“I won’t,” Stiles promised. When he got to the edge of the village, he stopped in his tracks. A figure stood at the ward, at the gate as if waiting for him. Stiles held his breath as he reached for his knife, only to find that he wasn’t wearing his thigh holster, or his ankle holster with his boots. He was completely naked, weapon wise. 

Stiles almost ran back to the Inn, but then he recognized the form of the daemon with the figure: a terrier. It was Alan Deaton. Stiles’ shoulders sagged with relief as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Stiles,” Deaton said with a bow of the head. “I was unsure of what the protocol would be for entering the village, what with all the wards that are up.” 

Stiles stopped just before he reached the wards, frowning. Could Deaton not cross? Was he the Defector his mother spoke about? Or the Mole? He had no one else with him, and definitely wasn’t the Great Wizard. 

“Can you not cross the line?” Stiles asked. Deaton took a step forward, passing through the invisible ward easily. Stiles released a breath he hadn’t even realized that he had been holding. Deaton was no enemy to the village. 

“Why are you here?” Stiles asked bluntly. “And why were you waiting on the edge of town?” Deaton gave Stiles a small smile, letting him finish his questions before answering. 

“I am here to help. I know you have been having nightmares because of the Dreamwalker.” Stiles tensed at the mention of Lenora, that Deaton knew of her and that he knew that Stiles had been having nightmares. “I was waiting for dawn, but I am glad I seem to have caught you on a night stroll.” Stiles could feel Deaton’s gaze on his bare legs and feet, making him feel exposed. Deaton knew he was weaponless. It didn’t make Stiles feel good, like the time that Deaton had touched Adara without Stiles’ consent. Stiles shut his eyes, gulping. 

“I will lead you back to the Inn,” Stiles told him, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. “Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure,” Deaton answered as he followed Stiles back to the Inn. 

Once they arrived, Stiles woke his father and Melissa, explaining to them in their room who Deaton was, about Lydia’s foretelling that someone from Stiles’ past would show up to help. The Sheriff got Deaton a room right across the hall from Stiles. As Stiles went back into his room, he locked the door, then shoved a chair against the door handle so that no one could enter. Adara sat on the bed, watching him do it with her head cocked to one side. 

“I don’t want him in here,” Stiles mumbled. 

“I don’t want him here either, he hurt you.”

“He is how we met Derek, though,” Stiles pleaded, mostly to himself. He ran his fingers through his hair as he worried at his bottom lip, pacing around the room. “Deaton couldn’t be bad if he is the reason we are together-”

“Were together,” Adara pointed out. Stiles scowled at her choice of words. 

“Without Deaton, I wouldn’t have met Derek.”

“Without Deaton, you would never have had someone use your curse on you.”

“I’d rather have Derek,” Stiles told her. “Wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that he touched me,” she said with her ears lowered. Stiles tried not to think of the sensation, the pulling within his gut. He pushed it aside as he crawled back into bed. Adara curled up beside him, her cold nose touching his neck as she immediately fell asleep. Stiles wasn’t far behind her, drifting off quickly. 

“Derek?” Stiles called out. He was by the ocean, that much he could tell. The air smelt of salt and seaweed, and a mist seemed to hang in the air around him. His bare feet squished in soggy, greying sand mixed with grass as he walked. Eventually he heard the crash of waves, distinctive against the silence surrounding him. Stiles ran onto the beach, his eyes landing on Derek’s form laying in the sand. Stiles fell to his knees beside him, rolling him over. Derek was in his human form, but he still had the collar around his neck. His back was covered in lashes from a whip, and his wrists looked like Stiles’ when he had been captured by the Magisterium. They had him shackled, somewhere nearby. Stiles surmised that this scenery was some place that Derek knew. He knew that the dreams before with the cage and the house were where Derek was being kept, but Lydia hadn’t yet told him where this place was. The shoreline was thousands of miles long. He needed a map. 

But for now, he needed to rouse Derek. Stiles placed his hands on Derek, hoping it would jar him. When simple touch didn’t work, Stiles cupped Derek’s face in his hands, turning him towards Stiles. 

“Derek,” Stiles whispered. Derek’s eyes fluttered open, his eyes widening when he saw Stiles. 

“No,” Derek croaked, gulping as he shut his eyes. “You’re not real.”

“I’m real,” Stiles told him as he scooted forward until his thighs pressed against Derek’s side. “Derek you have to believe me.” Derek shook beneath him, his head moving back and forth, trying to get out of Stiles’ grip. “What have they done to you?” 

“Torture,” Derek answered easily. “But you knew that already.” Tears welled up in Stiles’ eyes. The sight of Derek bruised and broken before him was too much. Before he had always been the wolf, licking and pinning him down in an embrace. This was really what was happening to Derek, there was no more pretending that Lenora wasn’t hurting him. “Too tired, can’t shift anymore.” 

“Tired?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded, letting out a shuddering breath. 

“If I am asleep, then when I wake up I am going to be beaten. I was ordered to remain standing and awake.”

“You... you shouldn’t be asleep?” Stiles asked. Derek shook his head. Stiles leaned over, pressing his head against Derek’s chest. 

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Derek mumbled, his hand coming up and brushing his fingers against Stiles’ neck, holding on. Stiles nodded, shifting so that he could capture Derek’s lips in his. 

“I am,” he said against Derek’s lips. Derek moaned against his mouth, allowing his tongue entrance. Stiles deepened the kiss, his hands gently rubbing across Derek’s chest. “Lydia found you.”

“No,” Derek said, pushing Stiles back. “It isn’t safe for you.” 

“I don’t care,” Stiles said, running his fingers through Derek’s hair. “I’m coming for you. We have help on the way.”

“What kind of help?” Derek asked warily. 

“Deaton arrived-”

“Stiles-” Derek started to say but the sentence didn’t finish. Derek let out a scream, his hand reaching for Stiles. “Stiles, don’t!” 

Stiles, with eyes wide, watched as blood started dripping from Derek’s mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head before he was ripped out of the dream and back into reality. Stiles woke up panting and covered with sweat. He lay there, wiping at his face. He felt sick, deep in his stomach. It roiled, churning unhappily as he reached out across the bed, searching for the comfort of Adara. She wasn’t beside him. He opened his eyes and sat up.

When his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he saw Deaton sitting in the chair that he had shoved up against the door handle. He had Adara in his lap. Stiles recoiled, covering his mouth with his hand, realization ghosting across his face as to the tugging deep within him. 

“Good morning, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to those who are commenting and letting me know what you think! basically, you guys are keeping me afloat right now, seriously. <3


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles scrambled out of bed, his movement snapping Adara out of whatever sort of trance she had been in, sitting in Deaton’s lap subdued. She jumped down then up into Stiles’ arms. She was shaking slightly, as was he. Stiles made his way to the door, but it was locked. With his back pressed up against it, a hand on the doorknob, he chanced a glance around the room, looking for one of his knives. He had them wrapped up on the desk that sat in the corner of the room. Deaton followed Stiles’ gaze, a small smile never leaving his lips. 

“We have a lot to discuss, Stiles,” Deaton said as he stood up. Stiles tensed as Adara snapped her teeth, angry that Deaton had done something to her, made her compliant. Stiles’ stomach churned at the thought of Deaton touching her again, of the feeling it elicited. 

“I think you just got yourself a one way ticket out of this village,” Stiles hissed. 

“You need me, you cannot deny that.” 

“I don’t see why we couldn’t go without you,” Stiles spat, his fingers working at unlocking the door. It was difficult when not looking directly at it. 

“How did you come across the brand?” Deaton asked. Stiles looked down, realizing that he was basically naked before Deaton, wearing only a tight pair of linen underwear. Stiles gulped. “It is a pretty powerful piece of magic.” Stiles’ lips quirked upwards. 

“We have our ways,” he said evasively. “How did you get Adara to-”

“Oh, that?” Deaton asked, looking at Adara instead of Stiles. “That was a simple herb based spell.”

“Why?” Stiles asked, trying to even his breathing. 

“I wanted to see if you had worked up a resistance,” Deaton said, shrugging. “I know your distance from her has grown, that she is able to go farther. If you want to win against the Dreamwalker, you’re going to have to work up a tolerance to others’ touch.” 

Stiles shuddered, shaking his head.

“Who would -- people don’t go around touching other people’s daemons,” Stiles stated. Deaton raised an eyebrow, nodding his head as if considering Stiles’ words. 

“You aren’t strong enough to go against her.” 

Deaton’s words struck a chord within Stiles, making him angry. He could go up against Lenora, just not in the way that anyone expected. All he had to do was ensure that it meant the freedom of Derek and Boyd. 

“Not everything relies on strength,” Stiles said as he opened the door. He swung it open, then ran down the hallway to his father’s room. It was a coward’s move, running to his dad, but he couldn’t help it. He felt sick, the lingering sensation of Deaton’s touch made Stiles feel disgusting. He burst through the door, finding it empty. Stiles cursed to himself as he retreated back into the hallway. 

“I’m not actually going to hurt you, Stiles.”

“Bullshit,” Stiles said as he made his way down the stairs two at a time. “I don’t trust you.” 

“You shouldn’t trust anyone,” Deaton called out from the landing as Stiles rushed outside. It was cool despite the time of year, with dew drops covering the grass, wetting Stiles’ feet as he walked around the outside of the Inn, looking for the Sheriff. He let Adara jump down, releasing his tight grip on her. Stiles leaned against the side of the Inn, running his fingers through his hair as his face contorted, trying not to get overwhelmed. Adara whined at his feet. 

“Why is he here?” Stiles asked her, tugging at his hair. 

“I don’t like him,” Adara said, her voice barely audible. Stiles heard the door to the Inn open, then bolted. He knew Adara would follow him as he ran out towards the barn. 

He found his father there, brushing the horses. When he caught sight of Stiles, worry filled his father’s features. 

“Stiles, what happened?” He asked as Stiles stopped running right before he ran into his father. Stiles bent over, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. 

“It’s Deaton,” Adara said as she curled her tail around Stiles’ bare ankle. “He got into our room last night and gave me something and he touched me and Stiles is scared.” Stiles looked up at his father, shaking his head. He wasn’t a child, he shouldn’t be scared of Deaton, but he did make him uncomfortable. 

“I don’t understand because he was able to walk into the village, how?” Stiles asked as he straightened out. “And he says he can help us with Lenora but,” Stiles shrugged as he shook his head again. He didn’t know what to think. 

“Alright,” the Sheriff said, placing a comforting hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Let’s get you inside and dressed. I’m going to have a talk with this Deaton. He isn’t welcome here with those actions. At all.” Stiles nodded his head as he let his father lead him back towards the Inn. Stiles hesitated before he went in. 

“I think I’m going to go home,” Stiles let out as he looked at his father. “To the cabin, just for a while.” The Sheriff nodded his head at Stiles in understanding. “I will be back later.” 

Stiles practically ran all the way to his and Derek’s house. He only ran across Danny, who was at work with Jackson trucking lumber to the watchtower. They both gave him weird looks but didn’t stop to ask him why he wasn’t dressed. Once inside the cabin, Stiles immediately felt safer. Adara curled up in her makeshift bed under the window, letting out a sigh of contentment. Stiles looked around their cabin, letting the feel of Derek wash over him. 

Making his way into their bedroom, he collapsed onto the bed, closing his eyes momentarily. He hadn’t meant to drift off, but that was what happened. 

Without opening his eyes, Stiles felt Derek’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly. Stiles squeezed back, tugging Derek’s hand up to his mouth, his lips ghosting across Derek’s knuckles. A sharp intake of breath from Derek made Stiles open his eyes. Derek was bruised, beaten. Stiles’ heart clenched at the sight of him. It was like a nightmare come true, and the fact that Stiles knew it was real made it hurt even more. 

“What are they doing to you?” Stiles asked as he reached for Derek’s face, his thumb caressing his cheek as tenderly as possible. Derek seemed to be having trouble taking full, deep breaths, as if he had broken ribs. Silent rage filled Stiles. 

“I won’t comply,” Derek said with a smile as he licked his dry, cracked lips. Stiles kissed him, then. “Stiles I tried to tell you before, about-”

“About Deaton?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded his head. “Is he working with Lenora?” 

“He was at the house, yes. Stiles you can’t come, it was all a trick. She wants you and Lydia. Erica and Isaac too.” Stiles bit his lip. 

“She can’t have us,” Stiles assured Derek. “And we are getting you back.” 

“About Deaton-”

“I’m going to kill him,” Stiles said as he raked his fingers through Derek’s hair, looking him in the eye. “He can’t get away with what he did.” It was Derek’s turn to touch Stiles, his hand reaching out and holding onto Stiles’ neck.

“What did he do to you?” Derek asked, his voice dangerous. Stiles thought about not telling him, because having Derek with him, touching him, made what happened seem like some distant memory that no longer had hold over him. Stiles shook his head, wrapping his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders, burying his face against Derek’s neck. 

“He touched Addie,” Stiles admitted. Derek stiffened beneath his arms. “I am sleeping in our bed right now. I haven’t been in our cabin since you left.” Derek’s hands rubbed circles on Stiles’ back. 

“If you don’t kill him, then I will,” Derek said as he placed a kiss on Stiles’ head, breathing him in. Stiles smiled against Derek’s skin, nodding his head. 

“I wish I was magic, I’d take your pain away.” 

“You are taking my pain away,” Derek said. Stiles’ heart ached to have Derek with him when he woke up. But nothing was easy. The bed would be empty beside him when he awoke. 

“I won’t let you be hers,” Stiles said, standing straight up. 

“I will never be hers,” Derek told him. “I’d rather die.” 

“I don’t want you to die,” Stiles said, his voice shaking. “I’ll save you, like you saved me.” Derek’s smile was barely there at Stiles’ words. He was looking at the ground before them, his thumb still moving across Stiles’ skin where his hands held onto Stiles’ hips. He touched near the brand, his eyes darting from it to Stiles’ eyes. 

“Is this how you are keeping her out?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded his head, looking down at the brand. “She has been beating me, or... Damien has been beating me because you’ve blocked her from you.” Stiles sucked in a breath, his face falling. 

“You’re getting hurt because of me?”

“Don’t think of it like that,” Derek urged him. “I’ll gladly take it if it means you are safe.” 

Stiles pushed himself away from Derek’s embrace. 

“Stiles-”

“I have to get to you, now. There isn’t time.” 

“Don’t come for me, Stiles.” Derek’s voice was grave. “She’ll kill you.”

“No, she won’t,” Stiles told him. “Because she linked us. She is using it as a threat, but she won’t do it. She can’t.” 

“I don’t understand-”

“She can’t hurt me, she can’t punish me. The brand keeps her from doing that,” Stiles explained. “But we are connected. As long as she is alive, I am.” Stiles didn’t want to say much more, because Derek would figure out his plan, he would make him promise that he wouldn’t go through with it. Stiles wouldn’t budge, though. “I love you, Derek. And I am coming for you.” 

Stiles kissed Derek once more. When he woke up he could still feel Derek’s lingering touch on his hips, the feel of Derek’s lips against his. Stiles touched his fingers to his lips, frowning as he sat up. He dressed himself, making sure to grab his thigh holster, belt holster, and ankle holster. His knives were at the Inn, but he had Derek’s. He sheathed those instead. It seemed right to be using Derek’s. 

Stiles made his way back to the Inn, with Adara leading the way. It felt almost normal, like before. She ran loops around him, running out in front then back around again. Stiles counted the steps to the Inn, his mind only on one thing: Deaton’s death. As he approached the building, his father was outside talking with Allison, their heads bowed. He slowed his walk enough that they both noticed him coming towards them. Stiles knew from their demeanor that they had been discussing him. He dismissed it for now, his mind set on what he needed to do. 

“Stiles,” his father said as he eyed Stiles’ weapons. He had a hand on Stiles’ bicep, keeping him in place. “We need to talk.” 

“I have something I need to do-” Stiles attempted to walk past, but his father’s grip on him tightened. Stiles slumped, knowing that he had to wait. “What is it?” The Sheriff and Allison exchanged looks. 

“We have another visitor,” his father said. Stiles frowned, looking from Allison to his father then back again. The Sheriff rubbed his free hand over his face, letting out a groan in frustration. “Let’s go inside and talk about this.”

“What about Deaton?” Stiles asked, his voice wavering slightly. He didn’t appreciate that. His father gave him a look. 

“He would like to speak to you as well.” Stiles clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes. 

“Not much interested in talking,” Stiles admitted, a hand on the knife at his belt. The Sheriff raised his eyebrows at Stiles, surprised. 

“Well, then,” he said. “Looks like you and I need to have a longer talk about that before you do something rash.” 

“It isn’t rash,” Stiles pointed out. He still felt violated, sick to his stomach. There were some things people _didn’t do_ and touching someone else’s daemon was one of them. Besides that, Stiles didn’t trust him one bit. Something about him was off. He didn’t know if Deaton was the Mole, or the Defector. Either way: he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. 

The Sheriff, Allison, and Stiles sat at the big dining room table. It was empty and seemed bigger than it normally did since only three sat; usually it was so full you could barely put your elbows on it without hitting someone else’s. Stiles watched his father and Allison have a silent conversation as he crossed his arms, waiting. 

“What is it?” Stiles asked. 

“My father,” Allison let slip. Her eyes widened as she covered her own mouth. Stiles’ jaw dropped, his hands falling into his lap as he sat up straighter. 

“Your... your dad?” Allison nodded her head. Stiles couldn’t breathe as Allison reached towards him, putting her hand on his shoulder. 

“Stiles, it’s okay,” she assured him. “He-”

“Is evil,” Stiles managed to get out. “He captured me. And Scott. He is part of the Magisterium!” Stiles stood up, pushing Allison’s hand away. “He isn’t... he isn’t in Evenstar is he? He can’t enter it. How did he find it?” Stiles tugged at his hair as he began pacing the room. 

“Stiles, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down when he is going to kill me,” Stiles called out. 

“He isn’t in Evenstar,” Allison told him. “He is just outside the ward. He ran into Lydia and Melissa.”

“Are they okay?” Stiles asked. 

“They doubled back just to tell us,” the Sheriff said. “Allison and I both went and talked to him. Stiles, he isn’t Magisterium.”

“How did he escape?” Stiles asked. 

“He wasn’t in the building,” Allison said with a sigh. “That, and I know that his heart wasn’t really... in it. With the Magisterium, I mean. I believe him when he says that he is no longer one of them.” 

“The Defector,” Stiles mumbled to himself. Allison and the Sheriff heard though, and exchanged glances between one another. Stiles sighed as he put his hands on his hips, hanging his head down. “He is no longer Magisterium, therefore he defected. He is here to help, right?” 

“That and he has two men with him,” the Sheriff said. Stiles’ head shot up, his eyes narrowed.

“What men?” Stiles asked. 

“He wouldn’t say,” Allison said. “He wanted to speak with you -- only with you.” Stiles’ mind reeled. Maybe Chris had the Great Wizard with him, and his ward. Lydia’s reading of the Alethiometer was happening faster than he thought it would. 

“Alright,” Stiles said. “Take me to him.” 

“You and I will go,” the Sheriff said. “Allison can remain here.” Allison frowned at him. 

“No, I am coming too. I’ll go get my bow,” she said as she stood up. As she walked towards the door she turned back to face them. “Don’t leave without me.” 

“We won’t,” Stiles called out as she disappeared in a run. As soon as she was out of sight, Stiles turned towards his father. “Where is Deaton?” He asked. 

“Upstairs in his room. I asked him to remain there.” 

“And you believe that he would just stay when asked?” Stiles inquired as he threw his hands up in the air. His father crossed his arms, giving Stiles a perturbed look that only a father could. Stiles crossed his arms back, mimicking him. “I don’t want him here. I don’t want his help.” 

“He told me about Adara.” Stiles blanched. “And how he believes Lenora will use touch against you in battle.” 

“I don’t trust him,” Stiles seethed. “I don’t know how he managed to walk past the wards. We need to search him for a talisman.” 

“Those wards only serve to hinder entrance, son. Lenora entered-”

“Lenora is a Dreamwalker,” Stiles pointed out. “Deaton is human, not magic. He has no real power-” 

“That we know of.” 

“And you want me to trust him?” Stiles asked. The Sheriff shook his head. 

“No, I didn’t say that. But if he can lead you to Lenora, it would get you to Derek faster.” Stiles bit his lip. “Lydia might know where it is, but that doesn’t mean she knows how to get there. Do you understand me?” Stiles nodded. He understood perfectly. Use Deaton to get to Lenora, then strike. 

Allison walked back in, interrupting their conversation. Didn’t matter, though. Stiles knew what he had to do. He followed his father and Allison towards the outskirts of Evenstar as the sun began to set. Adara stuck by his side as they walked, looking up at him every once in awhile. Stiles could tell she wanted to talk to him, probably about Chris Argent, but he knew they didn’t really have time. There was no time. He tried to give her a reassuring smile as his father lit a lantern, but she wasn’t having any of it. Before they set back off, she scratched at his legs, lifting up on her hind legs so that Stiles would pick her up. Stiles did so without rolling his eyes. He wanted her close to him even though he wouldn’t admit to it out loud. He felt better as he ran his fingers through her fur between her ears. She let out happy noises, her eyes closed, he followed the light the lantern gave off. There was no moon out to brighten their path. 

“I don’t like this,” Adara told him. Stiles nodded, agreeing with her. 

“We don’t have much choice,” he sighed. “This is the only way to get Derek back.” 

“Not the only,” Adara mumbled. “There have to be other ways that don’t mean trusting Deaton and Chris Argent.” 

“You’re right,” Stiles said. “It isn’t the only way, but it is the way we are doing it.” Stiles’ gut sank because he hadn’t even thought about what would happen to Adara if he killed himself to save Derek. Not only would Derek lose him, but he’d lose Adara as well. Stiles held her close. He didn’t want to think about her turning to dust. If anything, it made him unsure for the first time about doing it. He still had time to decide, to figure out how to ensure Derek’s release from bondage. Either way, Lenora had to die. Maybe there was a way to get rid of the bond before that happened? Stiles didn’t have room for that sort of optimism, though. He was being a realist. He and Lenora’s life forces were bonded together. The only way to free Derek and Boyd was to sever her life force by doing the same to his. Adding Adara to the mix made things more difficult, a harder decision to make. 

Suddenly, Stiles toppled over in pain. He dropped Adara, who landed on her feet at his side as he clutched at his stomach. His body throbbed as he grit his teeth, gasping for air. It felt as though someone had stabbed him. It was piercing, the pain. Stiles could hear his father and Allison’s voices, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to make out what they were saying. His vision blurred as the wind picked up around them. Stiles passed out to the sound of his mother’s voice telling him to stay awake. He tried in vain, but the darkness took him. 

Derek stood in front of him, then, as Stiles’ vision cleared. He was still clutching at his side, the pain apparent even in his dream. Derek looked worse with dried blood on the corner of his mouth. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, swaying slightly as if he could barely stand. “You have to promise me you’ll not come.”

“I can’t do that,” Stiles hissed through the pain. Another stabbing pain wrenched through him, making him scream out. Derek winced, a tear falling from his eye. 

“She is hurting herself, Stiles,” Derek told him, his entire body shaking. “In front of me. She stabbed herself then...” Derek gulped. “You have to stay safe. I am going to give in to her-”

“No!” Stiles said, reaching out towards him. “Don’t give in. I’ll be there soon-”

“Stiles, no.” 

Stiles got up off the ground, groaning at the feeling of his stomach being ripped apart. He practically fell into Derek’s arms, his lips brushing against Derek’s, his arms wrapping around Derek’s bare, bloodied torso. Derek kissed him back, his own arms holding Stiles up. The kiss was desperate and deep. Stiles closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of being in Derek’s arms, if only for a moment. 

“I know how to save you,” Stiles whispered against his lips. “Don’t give in.” 

“I trust you,” Derek said as his hands trailed up Stiles’ back, then down again. Derek kissed Stiles’ cheek, then his neck, licking his skin. “I can’t hold on much longer.” 

“I’m coming.” 

Stiles woke up in a cold sweat, still clutching at his stomach. 

“Stiles -- Stiles, are you alright?” The Sheriff asked. 

Stiles gasped, his eyes widening as he took in his surroundings. 

“Lenora stabbed herself,” Stiles managed to cry out. “I can feel it.” 

“How do you know that?” Allison asked. Stiles bit his lip. He hadn’t told anyone that he had been talking to Derek in his dreams. He knew that he had to tell them, though. They had to know that Derek wouldn’t last much longer. So he did. He told them about how he had been talking to him, about his appearance and the fact that Lenora couldn’t get to him in his dreams and how she was taking it out on Derek. By the time the pain subsided enough for Stiles to walk, the sky was full of stars. 

A cabin came into view, its window lit by a lantern. Stiles shuddered at the thought of seeing Chris after what he had just gone through, but he was numb to fear. He didn’t feel anything as Allison knocked on the door. He did suck in a deep breath as it opened, though, expecting to have a bow pointed at his face as Chris appeared. That didn’t happen. Chris appeared in the door with a smile on his face as he hugged Allison, his eyes finding Stiles’. Stiles didn’t breathe as Chris let go of Allison and stuck out his hand for Stiles to shake. 

“Stiles, I hope you understand how very sorry I am about what was done to you.” 

Stiles was in shock, but he nodded his head anyway. Stiles thought about how he had killed Chris’ wife, about her blood on his hands. He could picture it now, as he pulled his hand back from Chris’ grip. “I want you to meet someone who can help.” 

Chris ushered the Sheriff, Allison, and Stiles inside the small cabin where a man sat at a makeshift table with mismatched chairs. Standing next to him was a scrawny boy with his hands shoved into the sleeves of his robes. 

“Stiles, this is the Great Wizard and his ward, a wizard in training.” The Wizard stood up as he eyed Stiles. 

“Well, he certainly isn’t what I had expected to see.” Stiles raised his eyebrows at the brashness of the Great Wizard. “What that old hag wants with him is beyond me.” Stiles’ jaw dropped. “The name is Finstock. But you can call me Fin. Do not, under any circumstances, call me by my first name. Actually, I am not even going to tell you my first name. Chris here doesn’t even know it and I actually trust him. You? You I don’t trust. I don’t trust Alethiometers, as a rule. Last Alethiometer I met was a feisty woman who kneed me twice-”

Stiles swore he heard his mother’s laughter, which made his mouth twitch. He exchanged looks with his father, unable to keep a straight face. Was this guy for real? How could he be the Great Wizard? It made no sense. 

“Hey, you. Bilinski-”

“Stilinski,” Stiles said, his hands on his hips. 

“Stilinski, Bilinski. Doesn’t matter. What matters to me is that we work together in ending Lenora’s reign of terror. How does that sound to you?”

“Sounds too good to be true,” Stiles admitted aloud. Finstock smiled at him, which made Stiles uncomfortable but he’d rather have Finstock smile at him then wake up to Deaton sitting next to his bed. Finstock mimicked Stiles’ stance, putting his hands on his hips. “So you are what has Lenora running around stealing all of the changelings?” 

Finstock’s laughter filled the small cabin, making everyone jump. 

“That’s me, buddy boy.” Finstock looked to his ward, giving him the stink eye for a moment. “This? This is Greenberg. He is basically useless, but can make a mean fire, can’t you?” He said as he ruffled his hair. Greenberg said nothing, but had turned red under the gaze of everyone in the room. “Me? Well. I am, in fact, a Great Wizard. Am I _the_ Great Wizard? I don’t think so, but then again a man with a giant ego tends to have a lot of enemies, am I right, Argent?”

“Yes you are, Fin,” Chris said with his arms crossed. He looked just as amused as Stiles felt, despite a twinge of disappointment. Finstock didn’t seem very powerful. Stiles knew not to ask for a show of power though. That was just asking for trouble. 

“So you need my son’s help?” The Sheriff spoke up. Finstock laughed again, shaking his head. 

“No, I don’t need help. But as I understand it, he needs mine. And that he has made Lenora very unhappy. Anyone who makes Lenora’s shitlist is someone who I want on my side. Like I said, not the first Alethiometer I have worked beside.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Stiles said, stiffening. “I will not allow any use of my-”

“Do I look like I need questions answered?” Finstock interrupted him. “I hate prophecy, hate it. It is a bunch of mumbo jumbo that is always misconstrued in some fashion. Most of the time, if you read a prophecy then you spend most of your time trying to not have it happen, which in turn... makes it happen. It is all a load of nonsense, really.” 

Stiles was exasperated. Mostly because he was no prophet. It didn’t tell the future, at all. Stiles wasn’t about to get into it with a wizard, though. 

“Glad that is settled, then.” 

“First, we need to get into Evenstar,” Chris Argent spoke up. “We need a plan, and this cabin isn’t big enough for all of us.” The cabin itself was only one room and he currently was brushing shoulders with his father and could practically smell Chris Argent’s breath. He couldn’t agree more. “We wanted to meet out on neutral ground so you wouldn’t feel ambushed.” 

“We appreciate that,” the Sheriff said. Stiles nodded his agreement. “We have plenty of room at the Inn.” 

Stiles was silent on the walk back, wondering if Chris, Finstock, and Greenberg would be able to pass by the wards without a problem. As they passed through them, Finstock stopped walking and for a second Stiles was worried, but as it turned out, Finstock was just admiring Erica and Isaac’s handiwork. 

“You know, it is interesting to see a witch and a hedge mage’s magic intertwined like that. Very interesting. I’ve never seen anything like that; very unique. Quite powerful, actually. I’d also like to take a look at your brand, Stilinski, at some point because I can tell from here that it was a work of four people, am I correct? Hell, of course I am correct.”

Stiles could only nod his head. 

For the first time ever, the Inn’s room occupancy was full. Chris, Finstock, and Greenberg all got their own rooms. Between them, Deaton, and Stiles, it was a packed house. Before heading to bed, Stiles knocked lightly on Finstock’s door. 

“Come in, Bilinski.”

“Stil-”

“I know, but Bilinski fits you better. What is it that you want?” Finstock asked. Stiles bit his bottom lip as he contemplated asking about his mother. 

“Was the Alethiometer you knew Moira Stilinski?” Finstock watched him for a moment before answering, his voice less grating, softer. 

“Her name was Moira, but that wasn’t her last name. I know she was your mother, though.” 

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. 

“I was the one that saved her from the Magisterium. I delivered her to the village where she met your father.”

“How do you know all that?” Stiles asked. 

“Because I recognize your father, and I see her in you. And I heard her laughter outside, on the wind.” The hair on Stiles’ arms rose, his nostrils flaring. He heard his mother’s laughter?

Finstock smiled at him, sighing. “How long have you heard her voice?” 

“Since Lenora’s nightmares started.” 

“She is protecting you,” Finstock told him. “Which means I will do the same. You and I will take Lenora down.” Finstock’s entire demeanor changed. He was more serious, less flippant. Stiles trusted this wizard. He felt at ease for the first time in months. He would save Derek with Finstock’s help. “But you didn’t come in here just to talk about Moira, what is the real reason you are here?” 

“It is about someone else who is in the Inn-”

“Deaton is here,” Finstock stated. Stiles nodded his head. 

“I was wondering if there was a way to ensure that he stayed out of my room.” Finstock raised an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles’ shoulders slumped as he licked his lips. “He told me that Lenora will use daemon touching against me, and in turn he... with Adara.” Stiles looked down at his daemon, who was by his feet. Finstock nodded his head in understanding. 

“She would use that against you, but he has no right to do that,” Finstock said as he put his hand in his pocket, then pulled out a small mouse. “No one should ever touch another’s daemon without consent. I will make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

“Good,” Stiles said. “Because if he does, I will kill him.” 

Finstock laughed, nodding his head in understanding. 

“I’m sure you will. I see the blood on your hands, can sense your sincerity and I wouldn’t stop you, but I do know that he has a part to play in this as well. We will need him.” 

“Lydia said the same,” Stiles said as he made his way to the door. “She is my-”

“Alethiometrist. Prophecy reader.” Stiles rolled his eyes at Finstock’s label, but nodded his head. “Not to worry, Bilinski. Tomorrow is when the sun will begin to rise once more.”

Stiles didn’t know what to make of the words, but he made his way to his room with them repeating over and over in his mind. For the first time since Derek’s capture, Stiles was positive that he was within reach.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to reiterate, restate, point towards some tags for this chapter. The tag "torture" should be highlighted with neon and be blinking. Trigger warnings for violence and assault should be headed. I don't think that it warrants another tag, but I thought I would at least restate that this chapter will have those themes in it, in case. 
> 
> As you can see, there is now an end in sight. The question is: how bleak will the outcome be? (my attempt at suspense...)

_“I know how to save you.”_

Derek woke up panting for breath in short bursts, his eyes barely opening due to the brightness of the midday sun that filled Lenora’s bedchamber. He was huddled in a corner of the room, collared and chained to the wall. His body ached from abuse and exhaustion. Damien was nearby, tending to Lenora who was laying in her bed, bandages covering her torso from where she had stabbed herself. 

Derek closed his eyes as he recalled the pain on Stiles’ face as he held onto his invisible wounds. Derek had watched as Lenora took a knife and stabbed herself. She smiled as she did it, smiled at Derek because she knew that he understood why she did it. She did it to punish him, to hurt Stiles. Because Derek would not comply, he would not fully submit. 

“Well?” Derek heard Lenora ask from her bed. He knew she was talking to him because Damien’s eyes were on him. Derek huffed out an angry breath. “How is our dear boy?” Derek seethed at how she called Stiles ‘dear boy.’ It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

“In pain,” Derek admitted. “Passed out from it.” Lenora hummed with happiness. It made Derek wince, eyes closing as he balled his hands into fists. 

“And?” 

“That’s all,” Derek told her. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that Stiles wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t _not_ come for Derek. Derek heard the bedclothes shifting and a smack. Lenora had slapped Damien, who had apparently tried to keep her from getting out of bed. Derek’s gaze met hers as she strode over to him, moving swiftly despite the bandages. She gripped Derek by his hair, hoisting him up to his knees as she yanked. She lifted an eyebrow at him, her teeth showing in a sneer. “Mistress,” Derek gasped, his mouth hanging open as he refused to look away from her. “There is nothing else.” 

“Liar,” she replied as she dragged a finger across Derek’s cheek. “He is coming for you, isn’t he?” Derek’s face remained blank as he pursed his lips together. Her grip on his hair tightened, making him grimace. Derek clenched his jaw harder in non-answer. He watched as Lenora’s patience with him dwindled out of existence. Her face fell as she released her hold on him. He dropped to the ground, finally breaking eye contact with her. 

“Bring me a vial of his blood, and the stopper we have of his tears. I need them,” she told Damien as she walked out of the room. Derek was past the point of fear when it came to the sorcerer. Damien unlocked the chain that had been holding Derek close to the wall, dropping it to the ground. When Derek didn’t immediately move, Damien hauled Derek to his feet while sending a wave of pain sharp as lightning through the collar. All Derek could do was glare at Damien as he grit his teeth through the pain. 

“Mistress wants a vial of your blood,” Damien said conversationally as they made their way to the barn. “We don’t want to keep her waiting, now do we?” 

“Then maybe,” Derek began as they descended the stairs, “you shouldn’t play around.” Derek knew what was coming to him. Damien liked torture, got off on giving Derek pain. Usually Damien whipped him. It took hours to get an entire vial of blood, but Damien enjoyed every second of it. 

Derek’s smart mouth got him a surge of magic from the collar that had him on his knees panting, his vision fuzzy from it. Damien put a boot to Derek’s side and rolled him over onto his back. Derek let out a whimper as Damien applied pressure to his already cracked ribs. Derek moaned, his head lolling to one side. 

“I’ll do as I damn well please, _dog_.” 

Once in the barn, Damien strung Derek up with a single chain, his hands shackled together, feet dangling a few inches off the ground. Derek groaned at the strain on his shoulders, his head falling backwards as he let his body go limp. It was easier if he wasn’t tense. Derek knew that the others were watching from their cages. All of them except Deucalion, who was probably with Lenora. He was her daemon, after all, the reason she decided to have a pack of changelings protecting her. It had taken Derek a while to figure out that Deucalion was her daemon. He didn’t have to be near her, the distance between them could be massive. Derek thought about when she came after him, hours away from Deucalion. He didn’t know how she did it, how she could withstand the pain. Stiles couldn’t be more than fifty feet from Adara without passing out from the pain. 

Derek wrenched himself from his thoughts as soon as Stiles entered his mind. He couldn’t afford to think of him or Adara now, not with what Damien was about to do to him. Derek flexed his arms, trying to hoist himself up enough that the shackles wouldn’t cut into his skin so much, but it was futile. 

“Do you know what she does with your blood?” Damien asked Derek as he walked around him slowly, showing off a knife by running it across Derek’s skin without piercing his flesh. Derek shuddered, but didn’t answer. “She drinks it.” Derek’s stomach churned at the thought. “To strengthen her bond to you.” 

“S’not working very well,” Derek snarked in a mumble. Damien heard though, because the blade scraped against Derek’s skin. He could feel blood dripping down his side, could smell it. The now bloodied knife was pressed against Derek’s cheek, smearing blood across it as he and Damien locked gazes. All Derek had to do was wait, to hold on a little longer. Stiles was coming for him, Stiles had a _plan_. Derek trusted him with every fiber of his being. It gave him hope. 

“Just you wait.” 

Derek felt the vial being pressed against his skin so that Damien could gather it. Fingers squeezed at the gash, forcing it to spill out faster. Derek grunted, too weak to do much else. When it was full, Damien stoppered it, then took a step back from Derek. 

“Now for the fun part: gathering your tears.” 

“You already have them,” Derek spat. He shut the mental door to his life in Evenstar, his life with Stiles, and locked it. Nothing Damien could say to him would make him cry. 

“We need more,” Damien snarled, reaching forward and grabbing onto Derek’s genitals and twisting. Derek screamed, his eyes watering immediately. “There is more than one way to make you cry.” Derek let out a muffled sob as he tried to inhale. “I don’t need to talk about all the things we are going to do to Stiles. I will leave that to our Mistress.” Damien squeezed harder. Derek felt like he was going to pass out. “All I need is this vial,” Damien held it up so that Derek could see it, “to be full. It will be over if you just.... give in.” Derek’s entire body shook from the strain. Damien released his grip, then waited. Derek breathed. In through his nose, out through his mouth, over and over again. 

Derek tried, in vain, to pull himself up again, to relieve the pain in his wrists as the metal cut into his skin. Damien was watching him, hoping that he would break. Part of him wanted to, just to get it over with. Let Lenora have his tears, do with them whatever she wanted. The other part of him wanted to rebel, to deny her this one thing. He had to hold on, he couldn’t give in. Stiles was coming for him. 

“Nothing is easy with you, is it?” Damien practically purred into Derek’s ear. He had the knife in his hand again, tapping it against Derek’s bare thigh. “Mistress likes you, though, favors you.” Damien’s lip lifted in an angry sneer, like Derek wanted her to be fond of him, to be her favorite when Derek wished she treated him like the others, like Boyd. On second thought, Derek was glad that she didn’t treat Boyd the same as she treated Derek, he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. “Wonder if she would still call you to her chambers at night if I cut your cock off-”

Derek cried out as the knife scraped across his skin, at the mere thought of Damien slicing him. He had to do something, had to stop Damien from continuing on the path he chose. Derek panicked, doing the only thing he could think of: he thought of Stiles and Adara. He thought of Stiles hanging in the air, lifeless, about him doubled over in pain because of Lenora, he thought of Stiles in his arms, dying from a stab wound inflicted by Gerard Argent. He thought of Adara curled up between him and Stiles, her licking his cheek, running around them as they walked. 

Derek’s eyes watered as he blinked repeatedly, hot tears fell in streams down his face. The feel of the knife against his flesh disappeared as Damien scrambled to catch them in a vial. 

“Good boy,” he practically cooed as his fingers ran through Derek’s hair. Derek closed his eyes as he licked his lips, trying to stop the tears from falling. It was as though floodgates had opened, thinking about Stiles and Adara. 

_”Don’t give in.”_ Stiles had said. _”I’m coming for you.”_

Derek was left hanging there for what felt like hours. Damien had left him there in order to give Lenora the vials. Derek was in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, despite how much he yearned for it to come. He wished he could see Stiles, feel him in his arms even if it would only be a dream. His head hung low between his shoulders, resting against his chest as he waited to be taken down. From his cage, Boyd whined. The others were kept as wolves. Derek wished he was allowed the same courtesy. Eventually, Derek heard the barn door open. The sound of Damien’s boots echoed as he approached. 

“Take him down,” Lenora said. Derek jerked his head up, not expecting to see her. Deucalion was by her side, watching Derek’s every movement. Damien lowered the chain that held Derek in the air. As soon as his feet touched the ground, they gave out from beneath him. His arms protested as they dropped to his lap, tingling as blood finally returned to them. “Damien tells me you broke,” Lenora said conversationally. Derek didn’t answer. Instead he moved to cover himself. Lenora lifted her dress enough to show a bare foot. With it, she nudged at his bare thigh. Derek glared up at her. 

“If he thinks that, then fine.” 

He looked away quickly, unable to look at her as she grinned down at him. “No matter,” she said offhandedly. “Cage him. Come, Deucalion.” Derek almost cried out with relief when he was shoved into his cage. Within the blink of an eye he found himself as the wolf. He watched as Lorena and her daemon walked out of the barn. Derek curled up, falling asleep almost immediately as he shut his eyes. 

Derek stirred to the feeling of fingers brushing through his mane. A scent engulfed him, and he immediately knew that wherever he was, he was safe. He let out a sigh of contentment as he opened his eyes. Stiles was sitting nearby, his lip caught between his teeth as he looked down at Derek. 

“You haven’t been a wolf in a long time,” Stiles said as his thumb moved across Derek’s muzzle. Derek shut his eyes as Stiles’ thumb brushed across them. He let out an audible sigh. He wished he was in his other form, that he wasn’t trapped as a wolf so that he could talk to Stiles. “At least you aren’t bleeding.”

Derek looked up at Stiles, then, and moved so that his paws were in Stiles’ lap, his front legs cascaded across Stiles’ legs as he headbutted into Stiles’ chest. He wanted to be closer to Stiles. 

“There is a Great Wizard,” Stiles said as he pulled Derek closer, speaking into his fur. “He came to us, is going to help us get to you.” Derek’s spirits rose. He knew about the Great Wizard, the one who Lenora feared most. Derek knew that he would be able to hold on until Stiles came. He trusted that Stiles would be able to save him and Boyd. “We are leaving tomorrow,” Stiles mumbled against his neck, burying his nose into Derek’s fur as he breathed him in as his fingers tugged at Derek’s side. “I love you.”

Derek licked Stiles’ face again and again. He couldn’t stop himself. He tasted like Stiles, he smelled like him, and sounded like him. Derek knew when he woke up that he would curl in on himself as he tried to remember everything about Stiles, but here and now Stiles was real. He could feel him, taste him. Stiles cupped Derek’s jaw with his hands, stilling him long enough to kiss his nose, his fingers digging deep into his fur. Stiles looked him in the eye, then his gaze raked over Derek, as if trying to memorize him. “I love you,” he repeated. 

Three days later, after being kept locked up, Derek found himself in Lenora’s study. He and Deucalion lay on the carpet by her side as she sat in her chair, silently watching Damien pace. Derek’s eyes followed Damien’s movements. He reminded Derek of a snake. It was ironic because Derek found out that Damien’s daemon was a tiny coral cobra who was rarely seen. Damien’s movements were fluid, as if he slithered around the room. He never ceased to make Derek’s hackles rise. 

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work, Mistress,” he said as he tugged at his hair. Derek could practically feel Lenora’s look of disapproval. He didn’t need to lift his head to see it, he knew it well. “Perhaps I should try again.”

A long suffering sigh escaped from Lenora’s lips as she shifted in her seat, her fingers strumming against the arm of the chair. 

“Well you must have done something wrong.”

“Mistress-”

“Stop, just stop your incessant whining,” Lenora said as she slammed her hand down on the armrest. “There isn’t time to do the spell again.” She looked down at Derek, her displeasure apparent. Derek tried to make himself smaller without moving too much, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference. She was angry because his blood and tears hadn’t worked. Whatever the reason that she took those from him, whatever the spell: it hadn’t worked. 

“I will gut him if I have to,” Damien seethed as he stepped forward. Derek lifted his head, and snarled at him. Derek felt the magic circulating through his collar, but he didn’t care. He snapped his teeth, baring them to Damien. 

“Now, now Derek,” Lenora cooed, her hand caressing the top of his head. His ears lowered, along with his head as he tried to dodge her touch. “Damien, you must learn to _listen_. There is no time. The spell needs time to cure, and it didn’t work. We will just have to think of something else.” 

“It was supposed to be for your protection-”

“I will be protected enough,” Lenora said as she stood slowly. Deucalion followed her with his gaze, ever silent as he lay beside Derek. Derek knew that, as her daemon, Deucalion couldn’t be trusted. He also wondered why he had never heard Deucalion speak. He lowered his head back to the ground as thoughts of Deucalion drifted to Adara and how she talked, murmured to him when Stiles slept. How she curled in against him, her fur soft to the touch. Derek shut his eyes, wishing to have her by his side once more.

Derek heard the pecking at the window before Deucalion, Damien, or Lenora did. He lifted his head, his eyes falling to a raven that begged entrance. Derek growled, catching the attention of Lenora. She immediately went for the window, her long blonde curls bouncing as she let the raven in. 

It had a letter attached to its leg. Derek couldn’t help himself as he got up and padded over to Lenora. She smiled down at him, her finger touching his nose before she opened it. Derek wanted to bite her finger off for that, but he refrained. He had to think of Stiles. 

Lenora looked over the letter once, twice, three times before even looking up at Damien. She was smiling still, which scared Derek. He felt a tingling from his collar. Whether it was from Lenora or Damien, Derek wasn’t sure, but it grew stronger until he had to lay back down, letting out a groan. When he was able to look back up at Lenora, she was looking down at him with that same, wide smile. 

“The Alethiometer is coming,” she said as she crouched down in front of Derek. She reached out, unafraid of Derek because she knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm her. She trailed her fingers across his fur. “He’s coming for you, Derek.” 

Derek shook as he shut his eyes. Deaton had truly betrayed them, then. There was no going back for him now. When he saw Deaton he would sink his teeth into him. 

“And when he gets here,” she began to say as she picked up his jaw, forcing him to look up at her. “You will truly be broken.”


	13. Chapter 13

“I think the answer is simple,” the Sheriff spoke up from the head of the table. A town meeting was called to discuss who was going on the journey to the coast with Stiles. “According to Lydia, only seven are to embark-”

“And I am one of them,” Stiles cut in. He was seated by his father’s side, next to Lydia who had her hand over his. Stiles’ leg was bouncing, his fingers tapping against the tabletop, his blood pumping with adrenaline, worrying about the fact that he could already be too late. For the first time since Derek’s capture, he didn’t dream of him the night before. It left a gaping hole in Stiles’ being, waking up to a bed void of Derek along with empty dreams. 

“Stiles is one of the seven. I plan on going as well.”

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “You need to protect Evenstar. You’re important to the foundation of the village, you are needed here.” Stiles’ father looked as though he was going to fight back, but Melissa reached her hand out, covering the Sheriff’s with hers. 

“He’s right. Let the others go in your place.” 

“Fine,” the Sheriff said in an exasperated sigh as he shook his head. “Chris Argent has volunteered his weapon expertise, which will be needed.” Stiles nodded his head at Chris, who was seated across from him, next to Melissa. 

“I’d like to volunteer,” Allison stood up. She looked to Stiles, then her father. Stiles stood up as well, leaning towards her with both hands on the tabletop. 

“Absolutely not,” Stiles said as his jaw clenched. Allison’s eyes narrowed at him in anger. 

“I’m a better shot than you, than my dad,” she said in an even tone, loud enough for the whole table to hear. Stiles locked eyes with her, shaking his head slowly. 

“This has nothing to do with how good your aim is, Allison,” Stiles said as his gaze fell to her stomach. He had no idea if she had told Scott yet, about her pregnancy, but there was no way he was going to allow her to follow him to his death. He wouldn’t let that happen. “There is no way I am endangering you or Scott.” 

Scott sat up straighter in his seat beside Allison, his brow furrowed in clear confusion. Stiles’ shoulders slumped. 

“What about us?” Scott asked her. Allison bit her lip as she looked around the table. 

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “But I know that Stiles needs more hunters in the party or-” Allison sat down, shaking her head. “I just wanted to help.” 

“You’re pregnant?” Scott asked the same time as Melissa did. Stiles was left standing there, feeling horrible for being the one to break the news. 

“I was going to tell you, but with Laura’s death, with Boyd and Derek’s capture, with my dad’s arrival-”

“It’s okay,” Scott said with a smile. “I just... I didn’t know,” he said as he kissed her, cupping her face with his hands. Stiles looked away, his gut clenching. He didn’t want to deny anyone happiness, but seeing them together made him miss Derek even more. It was a selfish thought, which he was not proud of having, but he couldn’t help it. 

Finstock was the one to stand next, clearing his throat to get the attention of everyone in the room. 

“Greenberg here and I, we are going on this so-called journey.” Finstock looked directly at Stiles. “You’re going to need us.” 

“I’m going,” Erica spoke up. She remained seated, but her arms were folded across her chest as if daring anyone to deny her passage with the rest. 

“Of course,” Stiles said to her, then to Finstock. “And I would be honored if the Great Wizard joined us on this journey.” 

“I, of course, am among the seven,” Deaton spoke up from the back, where he was leaning against the wall. “Since I know where we are going.” He was smiling, which disarmed Stiles momentarily. Stiles took a breath, then nodded. 

“We need one more,” Stiles spoke up as he looked around the table. Isaac cleared his throat, his hand against his mouth as he gathered the attention of everyone in the room. 

“I’ll go. The more magic users you have with you, the better.” 

“We’ll be glad to have you along,” Finstock said before Stiles had the chance. “Now, I suggest we leave as soon as possible. It is going to be quite a journey, but luck for all of you, I know how to get us there quicker than say, walking all the way to the coast.” Stiles’ eyebrows lifted with intrigue as he waited for Finstock to explain. When he didn’t, though, Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I suggest we all get a good night’s rest because the way I travel tends to leave some people weak in the knees.” Finstock looked to Isaac, as if sizing him up. “And I don’t slow down for anyone.” 

“We leave at dawn,” Stiles spoke up, not allowing anyone to leave just yet. “We need to make sure we have all the provisions we will need, along with supplies.” Everyone chimed in with ways they could help. Gathering provisions, readying the horses for the journey, packing everything that would be needed. Everyone had a job to do, so the meeting broke rather abruptly, leaving Stiles and Adara at the table. His part to play was to simply pack his own things. He wasn’t quite ready to move yet, not when he had something he wanted to bring up to Finstock. 

Eventually, Stiles made his way upstairs to Finstock’s room, standing on the other side of the door for a few minutes. 

“For god’s sakes Bilinski, get in here before I hex you,” Finstock said, his voice loud enough that it made Stiles jump slightly as he reached for the door knob. Finstock lifted an eyebrow at Stiles as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Greenberg was in the room, which hadn’t surprised Stiles in the slightest. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I wanted to talk to you about how, exactly, we are going to take Lenora down.” 

“Magic, obviously,” Finstock said with a roll of his eyes. “But I can tell that you have an idea of your own, so spill it.” 

“When, when she stripped Derek and me of our soul bond,” Stiles started to say as he looked down at his bare palm, his fingers ghosting across the area that the bond should be. “She said that she and I were connected, now. She said that if Derek harmed her, it would be harming me as well.” Finstock nodded his head, his arms crossing as he listened to Stiles. It gave Stiles the courage to continue on, despite the knot in his stomach. Stiles swallowed before he continued, his gaze reaching Adara’s for a moment. He hadn’t even told her, he couldn’t tell her. “She stabbed herself, and I felt it. We are truly connected. Which is why I think that in order to kill her, I have to die.”

Stiles waited for Finstock to move, to say something about what he had just revealed. Instead, Finstock stood there, unmoving. Stiles breathed deeply, his mouth hanging open and a hand on the back of his neck. 

“It would be the easiest way to free them, all of them.” 

“Let me get this straight, Stilinski,” Finstock said as he pointed at Stiles. “You want to sacrifice yourself in order to free your bonded and a fellow villager?” 

“We were bonded-” Stiles began to say but Finstock waved his hands around animatedly, effectively hushing him. 

“Doesn’t matter, just tell me that I am hearing this right.” 

“Yes,” Stiles shouted. “Yes, I am sacrificing myself in order to save them.” Stiles was panting, his hands clenched in fists as he practically shook. “I have to save them, and she is going to use me against him. I’m not going to allow that.” 

Finstock was silent as he thought. He glanced at Greenberg, whose jaw was hanging loose, his eyes wide. 

“I think that could work,” Finstock said with a smile when he finally turned to Stiles. “We have a lot to go over before dawn.” 

By the time he and Stiles had finished their discussion, the sun had been set for hours already. Stiles picked Adara up on his way down the Inn’s stairs, taking them two at a time as he held her close. She had been silent the entire meeting, which had worried Stiles, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, now. The plan was in place. 

As Stiles made his way out of the Inn, walking towards his cabin, he saw a lantern in the distance. 

“Who’s that, Addie?” Stiles asked. The figure was walking towards him, coming from the woods. Stiles held his breath for just a second before he realized just who it was: Deaton. “What are you doing, Deaton?” Stiles asked as a hand moved to his thigh, holding tight to Derek’s knife which lay sheathed there. 

“Stiles,” Deaton mused aloud. “Just who I wanted to see.” Stiles shut his eyes for a moment and breathed as Deaton approached him. The wind picked up around them, and Stiles knew his mother’s voice would be riding behind it at any moment. The thought comforted him, in a way. He wasn’t afraid of Deaton. He could kill him at any time, that much he knew. The only reason he was alive is because he was going to deliver Stiles to Lenora. Which is exactly what Stiles wanted him to do. 

“What are you doing out here?” Stiles asked, his tone biting. 

“Am I not allowed to take a late night stroll?” Deaton asked him. Stiles dropped Adara. She landed on her feet with ease by his side, her teeth snapping at Deaton’s dog daemon as Stiles stood close to Deaton, his face mere inches from his. 

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you,” Stiles said with a sneer. “I don’t know why you are here, or whose side you are on. If you so much as touch me or Adara on this trip consider your life forfeit.”

“Threats look good on you, Stiles,” Deaton said with ease. “You’ve grown so much since we first met. Naive and scared. Allowing anyone into your life, a wolf.” Stiles grit his teeth. “You do remember that I’m the one that introduced you to Derek, aren’t you? That it was me who helped you, guided you, told you where to go. I gave you Derek, and yet here you are...” 

Stiles took a step back, his hand not leaving the knife at his side. 

“Are you trying to tell me that Derek is someone I should fear?” Stiles asked. “That he would hurt me?” Deaton said nothing as Stiles shook his head. 

“You cannot poison my thoughts when it comes to Derek.” 

“Once an idea is thought of, it cannot be taken back,” Deaton said with finality as he stepped aside, then continued towards the Inn. “See you at dawn, Stiles.” 

The cabin was pitch black when Stiles arrived home. He lit a lamp, bringing it into his and Derek’s room and placing it on a table. He packed quickly. He put his traveling boots to the side of the bed, along with a light cloak to wear in case it rained. It was still too hot out for many added layers, but Stiles didn’t want to ride a horse soaked through. Adara sat on the bed, curled up, watching him pack both his and Derek’s knives. 

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Adara asked eventually. Stiles stopped moving so he could look at her. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything.” He joined her on the bed, hands reaching for her. It reminded him about how she used to dislike being touched, held. That was before Derek, before they had run. Both of them were so different now. 

“I couldn’t,” Stiles admitted to her. “I couldn’t tell you what I wanted to do.” Stiles pet her face, his finger running along her snout. She lifted a paw, pushing it away and nipping at him. It didn’t hurt, but it was meant to sting. “We are his only hope, Addie.” 

“I know,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean that you deciding this for yourself is okay. It isn’t.” 

“I don’t want to lose you or him,” Stiles told her. “But this isn’t about you and me.” He rested his head against his arm as he curled around her on the bed.

Stiles woke up to a knock at the door. He had fallen asleep with Adara in his arms, once again without having a dream. Stiles bolted out of bed, rubbing at his eyes. 

“I’m coming!” He shouted as he scrambled to put on his boots. He had barely finished packing before he had passed out. He looked outside and groaned: it was past dawn. 

Stiles opened the door to find Chris Argent there, waiting for him. Behind him were two horses. One for Stiles, and one for Chris. 

“Didn’t think you’d be the one to oversleep,” Chris said with a smirk. Stiles scowled at him as he made his way back into the cabin to grab his things and pick up Adara who was still sleep addled on the bed. With one one last look at his cabin, he took a deep breath then closed the door. “We’re stopping at the Inn first, everyone is meeting there,” Chris informed him. Stiles could only grunt in response. 

By the time they reached the Inn, Stiles was fully awake. As soon as his eyes landed on his father, Stiles’ breath hitched in his throat. This was it. This was where he said goodbye. Stiles hopped down from the horse and walked over to his father, enveloping him in a hug. They stayed that way for a long while before Stiles got the courage to loosen his grip. 

“You be safe,” the Sheriff said as he pat Stiles’ back. Stiles nodded his head, unable to say anything for fear of telling his father about what he was to do in order to save Derek. “Bring him back home.” 

“I will,” Stiles promised him. Because that was all he could do. He let go of his father, backing away from him as he sniffed back emotions, wiping a hand across his face. “I love you,” Stiles said. 

“I love you too, son,” the Sheriff called out as Stiles got back on his horse. Adara was on the ground, ready to run beside them for as long as she could. Scott walked over to Stiles with Allison by his side. In his hands was a knife. 

“I made you this,” Scott said as he handed it over. Stiles took the blade in his hands, turning it over, appraising it. He gave Scott a small smile as his fingers slid over the handle. A fox and a wolf was carved in it. “Come back to us.” 

Stiles choked on his words, unable to say anything as he switched out one of his knives for the one Scott made. 

“I’ll be sure to use this, Scott. Thank you,” he deflected. Scott caught him, knowing him too well. With his brow furrowed, Scott reached out for Stiles’ wrist. Stiles didn’t pull away. “I can’t promise you anything.” 

“But-”

“Aim true, Stiles,” Allison said, interrupting Scott before he got worked up. Stiles nodded his head. His bow and quiver were packed, slung over his back. He was as prepared as he could be, considering. 

Stiles wasn’t able to say anything else before they were off, headed towards the boundary of the village. Stiles twisted his body around for a last look at his friends, his family. His father and Melissa had their arms wrapped around each other, as did Scott and Allison. Stiles’ brow furrowed when he realized he hadn’t said goodbye to Lydia. He didn’t have much time to dwell on that fact as they passed the wards at the edge of town. Deaton was in the lead, followed by Chris Argent. Stiles took the rear, following directly behind Isaac. 

They rode for hours in silence before they stopped to eat and relieve themselves. Stiles already felt sore from riding, so he ended up taking a walk around where they set up camp for the hour they decided to stop. He and Adara walked in silent companionship until they came across a stream. Adara took her time drinking from it as Stiles cooled himself by splashing some on his face. 

_”Stiles,”_ his mother said, making him jump back from the stream. Before his eyes stood his mother, an apparition that sparkled as sunlight hit it through the trees. She was barely there, her form almost see through, but he knew her face well. Stiles looked around as he licked his lips, trying to figure out if she was really there. Adara whined, letting Stiles know that she too, saw Moira. 

“Mom,” Stiles whispered. “What are you doing here?” She smiled at him with her hands clasped together in front of her. 

_“I’m here to give you strength,_ she told him. _”To defeat Lenora, trust yourself. Trust the Wizard.”_ She glided across the stream, her ghostly hand reaching out and cupping Stiles’ cheek, cold lips kissed his forehead. When Stiles opened his eyes again, his mother’s form was gone. A twig snapped behind him, and within seconds Stiles had a knife drawn and pointed directly at Finstock. Stiles didn’t drop his stance, ready to lunge forward as Finstock approached. 

“Moira has come to me as well, in my dreams,” he said as he stuck his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robes. “She gave me warnings of things I already know. Chances of all of us returning-”

“One of us won’t be,” Stiles said with a clenched jaw. He meant himself, at least. Lydia herself said that one of them would die. Stiles already knew it would be him. 

“At least one,” Finstock pointed out. “And Moira has given herself to protect you, what was left of her essence. So don’t waste it.” 

“I won’t,” Stiles murmured. He picked up Adara, nuzzling her as he held her close. “With what she gave me, I will be able to free Derek.” 

When they returned to the group, Finstock gathered them around. 

“We are far enough away from Evenstar for me to shift us closer to the coast. Lenora has a ward around her fortress the same way that Evenstar has, only hers has a wider berth. I will need to drain all of our energies in order to move us all, so we will need to sleep as soon as we arrive.” 

“How are you going to do that?” Isaac asked, intrigued. Finstock only smiled at Isaac. Stiles knew better than to ask a Wizard how his magic worked. 

“Gather around, I need us all to be touching. Make sure you have your daemons close. We wouldn’t want to lose anyone by leaving your daemon behind.” Stiles shivered. The pain of being that far from Adara would surely stop his heart almost immediately. He doubted even Lenora could survive that kind of separation. They all squished in close together, their hands on the horses and each other, making sure they all had contact. “Make sure you breathe,” Finstock said as a final word of warning. Stiles suddenly felt as though all of the air was knocked out of him, like he was being yanked into hell. His knees were weak as he held onto Chris Argent and Greenberg. He could still feel Adara at his feet, her tail wrapped around a leg. He swore under his breath when they stopped. His stomach churned as he felt to the ground as if knocked over.

He was unable to move, feeling as though he had walked all the way from Evenstar to the coast in one day. His body ached as he rolled over onto his back then reached for Adara. She moaned as he dragged her across the sand in order to pull her close. It was raining where they landed. The sky was grey, bleak, as he opened his eyes to take in their surroundings. Stiles wouldn’t be able to move even if he had to in order to save his own life. He felt completely helpless. 

If Lenora knew they were here, she’d be able to kill them all on the spot. He couldn’t tell what time of day it was, but something told him that dusk wasn’t too far away. 

“Rest for now,” Finstock panted nearby. “We will need to find shelter before night falls.” Stiles fell asleep almost immediately, the rise and fall of Adara’s small body lulling him into a dreamless sleep. It felt like mere moments before Stiles was shaken awake by Chris Argent. Stiles groaned as he tried to stretch his arms and legs. 

“Come on, time to move,” Chris said as he helped Stiles get to his feet. He handed Stiles a piece of jerky to chew as they mounted their horses. Night fell as they rode up the coast, then made their way into a forest. It felt like Stiles was in a dream, the surroundings felt familiar to him. It didn’t take him long to realize that it was because in his dreams he had always visited Derek, where he was, what he had seen. The flora and fauna were different here, didn’t look the same as near Evenstar. 

Trees were bigger here, older, left untouched throughout time. Vines grew from tree to tree, draping low and blocking their way as they rode slowly through the low lying brush. Eventually, Finstock dismounted, touching a hand to one of the massive trees. 

“We can sleep here,” he said as if shelter would be provided. Stiles snorted. 

“You said we needed to find cover.”

“I have,” Finstock snapped. “Wayward Pines are a traveler’s best friend.” 

They tied off the horses, making sure they wouldn’t run off in the night, making sure to give them food before they made their way into the hidden shelter. Stiles’ jaw dropped when he realized that the tree’s inside was practically hollow. There was enough room for them, if they got close together. The rain wouldn’t touch them in here. Finstock set down an oil lamp that he had hanging from his horse, igniting a flame with the snap of his fingers. 

Stiles legs ached from the long day’s journey, but he was glad that they were already so close to Derek. It would have been agony traveling for days in order to get to him. Adara was by his side, still silent. He reached out for her anyway, her eyes closing as he pet her. He knew she was just as exhausted as he was. And they would need their strength for the morning. Stiles fell asleep beside Greenberg with his back pressed up against the Wayward Pine.

A raven’s caw woke Stiles from a deep sleep. He sat up, his eyes wide as he looked around. It was just past dawn by the look of the soft light that filtered through the opening in the tree. The sound of rain reached his ears as he strained them, trying to hear the raven again. Stiles counted the sleeping bodies around him, his eyes narrowing when he realized who was missing. 

Stiles found Deaton just a few paces from the tree, a raven flying away from him. 

“Sending Lenora a love letter?” Stiles asked. If he had startled Deaton, he didn’t show it as he turned to face Stiles. He was calm as ever, which disturbed Stiles. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Deaton said with ease. Stiles grit his teeth as he grabbed Deaton by his cloak, shoving him against the nearest tree, a knife pointed against his neck. 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t slit your throat right this second.” 

“Because you won’t survive without me,” Deaton said in answer. Stiles scoffed, pressing against Deaton’s skin further. Blood appeared, making Deaton wince. 

“Surprised you can even feel pain,” Stiles spat. “Since you sold your soul to a demon.”

“She is no demon,” Deaton admitted. “She is as human as you or me.”

“That means she can die just like the rest of us,” Stiles said as he pushed away from Deaton. “You sending her a letter changes nothing. I don’t care if she knows I’m coming or not. The result will be the same.” 

Deaton smiled at him. Stiles’ stomach roiled, but he stood tall, resolute. 

“I will have what I am after.” 

With that, he left Deaton standing there. 

“The plan is a simple one,” Chris Argent said as he stood in the middle of the group. “Stiles and I will attack with arrows laced with these,” he held out a small bag, packed tight with a mixture of ingredients that Lydia made, “which explode on contact. That, mixed with magic by you all, will catch them off guard enough to take down Damien.”

“Damien controls the collars that the changelings are wearing,” Deaton divulged. “Once he is down, the collars will come off easily. Derek and Boyd will be free.” 

Stiles clenched his jaw, his arms crossed as he listened to Deaton’s words. It seemed simple enough, too simple to be true. Damien wouldn’t be easy to kill, and killing only him wouldn’t free Derek. 

“What if they are linked to Lenora as well?” Erica asked. It was the first thing she had said the entire journey. Her demeanor was that of someone who was the walking dead. She had no life left within her without Boyd by her side. Stiles didn’t blame her, because he felt the same exact way. 

“Lenora will be taken down too,” Stiles reassured her. “You concentrate on her daemon, and on Damien. Get them, and we will free Derek and Boyd.” 

They rode for a while before tying off the horses and continuing on foot. According to Deaton, Lenora’s wards were nearby. Stiles had his bow and arrow at the ready as they walked. Erica was by his side, murmuring to herself, preparing her spellwork for a fight. A crackle of sound split through the air as they stepped forward. It sounded like a clap of thunder to Stiles, but he knew that it wasn’t. They had crossed the ward. 

“Stop,” Stiles said, his eyes wide. “Don’t take another step.” No enemy could cross the ward into Evenstar, so them crossing Lenora’s didn’t make sense. “It was a warning. If we go forward, we’ll die.” 

“Smart,” Deaton mumbled to himself. Within the blink of an eye, Stiles turned his body and shot an arrow straight into Deaton’s upper thigh, causing him to cry out in pain. 

“Anything else you’d like to tell us, Deaton?” Stiles hissed as he walked over to him, aiming another arrow at him. This time, it was aimed between his legs. “As our guide.” Deaton shook his head as his hands clasped his wounded leg, blood gushing everywhere. 

“How intriguing,” a voice echoed around them. It was a man’s, slow and slithering. Stiles spun around, searching for Damien. 

“Come out, coward,” Stiles called out. 

“Make me,” Damien whispered into Stiles’ ear, riding on the wind. Stiles jerked towards the disembodied voice, unable to see anything as a fog rolled in. Stiles’ chest restricted. He knew what fog meant. Warm light ignited around him as the fog thickened. Greenberg stood nearby, his hands glowing, allowing Stiles to see a few feet around him. 

“Damien, play nice,” Finstock’s voice boomed. The fog disappeared almost instantly, as if the wind had carried it away. “Show yourself.” 

Damien appeared mere feet in front of Stiles. The arrow left Stiles’ side before he had even realized that he had shot it. It turned to ash before it reached Damien. Stiles threw down his bow, knowing it would do him no good here. Around him, all hell broke loose as magic was thrown every which way. Stiles heard the howling, the growling before he saw the wolves. All it took was for him to look away from Damien for a second. That was all it took before Damien had a hand around Stiles’ neck, hoisting him into the air. 

“I have him, Mistress!” Damien shouted with glee. 

“No!” Chris Argent shouted as warm light burst through the air. Damien’s grip on him was tight, constricting his throat. Stiles let him. He knew that Damien would lead him to Lenora, that Lenora wanted him alive. He only had to wait.

As Damien lifted Stiles higher into the air, so that his feet barely touched the ground, Stiles couldn’t help but reach up and hold onto Damien’s wrist as he gasped for breath. Damien dropped him immediately, as if burned. Confused, Stiles looked down at his hands, and then at Damien’s wrist. He was burned. _His mother’s protection_. Stiles smirked at Damien. 

“Nice try,” he said as Finstock approached them, encompassing Stiles in a warm light. 

“Call your Mistress here,” Finstock ordered. “Before I rip you to shreds.” 

“Now, now,” Lenora called out with a tsk at the end as she appeared surrounded by black fog. “What has Damien ever done to you?”

“Killed many for you, for one,” Finstock said conversationally. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat at the sight of her before his eyes. She was terrifyingly real now. She wasn’t an apparition in his mind, she wasn’t a dream. She was very, very real. Seconds seemed like hours as they locked gazes. The Changelings fought off Erica, Greenberg, and Chris Argent, sans Deucalion and Derek, who were by Lenora’s side. Damien sneered as he attempted to take Finstock on his own. They were locked in battle, which left only Stiles. 

Nothing was between Stiles and Lenora, now. Nothing was there to stop him. Stiles took off, running towards her. It was now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! 
> 
> *this chapter makes reference to Wayward Pines, which are from Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth Series. I included them as homage to TG and to SoT, because it actually influenced a lot of this fic in little, subtle ways. The shared apple early in the fic also was a reference to the first book. Lenora was based loosely off of two SoT characters... I could basically write an essay about SoT and this fic in general so I will just leave it at that!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: see added tags

Derek couldn’t so much as move as soon as Lenora’s fog dissipated around them, revealing Stiles in a warm globe of light. Lenora’s magic coursed through him, making it impossible for him to run towards Stiles. Seeing him alive and in front of him was a relief, despite knowing that him being here meant that Lenora could win. She could capture him, and then there would be no escape. Derek whined as he saw Stiles change his stance when Damien began fighting with someone that Derek could only assume was the Great Wizard. Helpless, Derek could only watch everything unfold before him.

Stiles ran towards them, his eyes staring directly at Lenora. Deucalion growled beside her, readying his stance for an attack. Derek couldn’t let him harm Stiles, no matter what. He had to do something. 

Within seconds, Stiles was on them. Lenora released her magical hold on Derek, which allowed him to pounce, attacking Deucalion. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Lenora said as the fog thickened around them. “You did exactly as I thought you would, coming for him.” 

“l’m not afraid of you,” Stiles said through gritted teeth as he swung a blade at her. She reached out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it. Stiles screamed the same time that she did, pulling back from being burned by him. “And you can’t hurt me, not now,” he spat as the wind picked up around them, swirling the fog so that it cascaded upward between them. Lenora tilted her head with her eyes narrowed as she took him in. 

Derek found it hard to pay attention when Deucalion was trying his best to get to Lenora and Stiles. 

“Your mother won’t be able to save you and neither will the Wizard.” 

Derek could feel his own heartbeat in his ears as Stiles lurched forward, grabbing hold of Lenora’s neck, bringing her close.That was when time seemingly stood still. Derek lost concentration long enough for Deucalion to bite him in the neck, flinging him to the ground. 

“I don’t need anyone to save me,” Stiles whispered to her as his eyes caught sight of Derek lying there on the ground with Deucalion’s paws atop of him, holding him down. With a swift flick of Stiles’ wrist, he severed Lenora’s throat. 

As she fell to the ground grasping at her neck, choking on air, thunder boomed all around them, sending everyone to their feet. Damien wailed from where he and Finstock had been dueling, his snake daemon turning to ash as Finstock ended his life with a wordless spell. Derek couldn’t breathe from the shock of it all as he felt the shift happen immediately. He was no longer bound by the collar, its magic dissipated with the death of Damien and Lenora weakened.

“You,” Lenora hissed, a hand reaching out towards Stiles. “Will regret that.” Lenora balled her fist, which had Stiles gasping for breath where he lay on the ground as she held him there with her magic. Derek scrambled to his feet, the collar dropping to the ground. 

“No,” Derek managed to get out as Stiles rolled, then lunged at Lenora, stabbing her once more, this time in the stomach. Magic ignited around them, lifting them both into the air. Lenora’s hair floated around her body as Stiles’ arms hung in the air, his body limp. “No!” Derek shouted as an ear-piercing shriek filled the air, Deucalion bursting into ash beside Derek. His eyes widened as light blasted from both of their bodies, and then they both crumpled to the ground. 

Derek searched around in vain, trying to find Adara. She was nowhere to be found. Derek’s stomach lurched at the implication. He ran to Stiles’ lifeless body, falling to his knees beside him. “No, Stiles.” Tears welled up in Derek’s eyes as he pulled Stiles into his lap, his fingers ghosting across paled skin. “Not this, anything but this.” 

Around him, all fighting ceased, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered now. Derek shut his eyes, letting tears fall onto Stiles’ skin. He sniffed, wiping them away from Stiles’ lips. “I love you.” Derek laughed as he looked around him, his arms clutching at Stiles as tears fell from his eyes. “He can’t,” was all he could say. His shoulder shook as he cried for Stiles, for Adara. Stiles had sacrificed himself to save him. “He can’t be dead.”

Derek bent over as he cupped Stiles’ face in his hands. One last kiss, a goodbye. As Derek’s lips brushed against Stiles’, pain erupted from his palm. It burned, seared his skin. Derek hissed as he backed his lips away from Stiles’. He turned his hand over from where it had been cupping Stiles’ face to see their bond on his skin, white hot. Derek’s eyes widened as he looked down at it, relief flooding through him as it dawned on him what this could mean. He didn’t dare hope, though. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to think he could have Stiles back, but if the bond was truly restored, then Stiles’ death would result in his own. One could not live without the other. Derek took Stiles’ hand in his, flipping it over to find a matching mark. He held his breath as he looked over Stiles’ still form. He still wasn’t moving, but Derek had an idea. 

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek said as he pressed his lips against Stiles’ once more. Nothing happened, Stiles remained eerily immobile in Derek’s arms. Derek grit his teeth against Stiles’ lips, squeezing his arms tighter around his limp body. “Come on,” he urged him. Derek kissed Stiles again, then trailed his lips across Stiles’ cheek, his ear. He nuzzled his nose against Stiles’ neck, his fingers threading through Stiles’ hair. He pulled on it in desperation. “You can’t be dead.” 

Derek rocked back and forth slowly, his head shaking against Stiles’ body. He couldn’t stop crying. Why would the bond return to him, only to have Stiles be dead? “I should be dead, I should have died with him!” Derek screamed. “I should be dead.” 

“Derek,” he heard the Great Wizard say beside him. Derek breathed out a shuddering sigh as he managed to look at him. “I need you to do something for me.” 

“What,” Derek said, barely audible, his voice cracking. “What could you possibly want from me?” Finstock smiled at him, his hand on Derek’s shoulder. 

“Hold his hand one last time.” Derek immediately laced his fingers with Stiles’, their bonds touching. Derek couldn’t help but sniffle. Nothing happened. Dread filled Derek’s stomach as it knotted. He wanted to throw up. Stiles wasn’t coming back. His lips brushed across Stiles’ knuckles before bringing them to his lips once more. His hands trembled as he felt Stiles inhale sharply. When Derek broke the kiss, Stiles was staring up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted. 

“What-” Stiles started to say as his chest heaved. Derek flooded with relief, his face breaking out into a smile. 

“You’re alive.”

Stiles laughed, his hand reaching up to touch Derek’s cheek. 

“And you’re free,” Stiles replied as his thumb trailed across Derek’s skin. Adara bounded her way over to them, jumping onto Stiles’ chest, licking Derek’s face over and over again. 

“How?” Derek asked, his voice cracking as he ran his fingers through Adara’s fur. He didn’t think he’d ever get to again and having her in his arms felt like home. “You weren’t... you were gone.” Stiles looked up at Derek, his lip caught between his teeth as he ran his fingers gingerly through Derek’s hair. He swallowed before he answered, looking to Finstock. 

“It is a long story,” Finstock said, clapping Derek on the back again. “And we will have time for it once we deal with the other changelings.” Derek looked around to see the others, also free from bondage, standing off to the side. He had no idea if he could trust them or not. He supposed that Finstock would deal with it. He didn’t plan on moving, on letting Stiles or Adara go. He caught a glimpse of Erica and Boyd, both wrapped in each others arms. He couldn’t help but smile. 

Derek’s gaze returned to Stiles’ as he felt Stiles squeeze his hand lightly, his grip weak. 

“I knew it would work,” he mumbled, his eyelids drifting shut. Derek’s brow furrowed as he licked his lips. 

“You knew, you knew that if you died-”

“There was only a chance,” Stiles admitted as he buried his face against Derek’s chest, closing his eyes. “That it wouldn’t work. But I knew that our bond was strong.” 

“I don’t understand,” Derek said, tears still in his eyes. 

“You will,” Stiles promised him. 

“Please,” Derek heard Deaton say from where he cowered on the ground, his hand still trying to stop the blood from gushing out of his thigh where the arrow was shot through it. “Spare me.” 

He was speaking to Finstock, who now stood over him. Derek couldn’t stop the growl from escaping his lips, his hackles rising. Deaton was a traitor, and he touched Adara. Stiles, too, reacted to Deaton’s words. His hand tightened in Derek’s grip, his eyes searching Derek’s, darting back and forth with his lips parted. Derek trailed a finger down Stiles’ cheek before capturing his lips once more. Stiles breathed in, his hands reaching up and cupping Derek’s head. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ lips. Stiles didn’t say a word as he got out of Derek’s lap, standing up slowly. Chris Argent rushed forward to hold onto Stiles, making sure he stayed upright as Derek stalked over to Finstock and Deaton, his jaw set tight, hands clenched. “Give me one reason why I should spare you,” he spat, his bare foot resting against Deaton’s injured leg. 

“I can explain-”

“No,” Stiles said as he stepped forward. “There is no need.” Derek looked to Stiles, watching him come face to face with Deaton, squatting down in front of him, his face set in an emotionless glare. “There is nothing you can say for siding with the Dreamwalker.” 

“He has a point,” Finstock said, his arms crossed. “Your job was to lead us to Lenora. You even sent a raven to her, telling her that we were near.” 

“You used me,” Stiles hissed. Derek’s foot jabbed at Deaton’s thigh, making him cry out in pain. “You touched Adara, you _pet her_ , you made me sick when we first met, and for what reason?”

Derek shook with anger at the sound of Stiles’ distraught voice. Within the blink of an eye, he transformed into the wolf. Deaton’s throat was ripped out within seconds. He barely had time to scream, let alone put a hand up to attempt to stop him. Deaton’s russell terrier turned to ash before their eyes. Stiles fell to his knees, grabbing at Derek’s fur as he buried his face into the black softness. Derek let him tug on him as he shook, his body unable to handle the day’s strain. He transformed back into himself, wrapping his arms around Stiles. 

“It’s over,” Derek told him. “We’re both free now.” Stiles kissed him again.

That night their party took over Lenora’s estate. They let the remaining changelings go, since they were captured just as Derek and Boyd had been. They gathered around a fireplace on the ground floor, wrapped in blankets because of the rain, despite the warm weather. Stiles’ head lay in Derek’s lap, their fingers intertwined as Finstock stood before everyone, about to explain everything. 

Derek couldn’t help but touch Stiles every way he could within good reason while surrounded by others. Adara was practically pawing at Derek’s side, licking at his arm every few seconds as if she couldn’t stop the affection. He wanted to be alone with them so badly, but he knew he had to wait a little while longer. Stiles’ gaze was on Finstock, his breathing uneven as he waited for him to begin speaking. 

“What you witnessed earlier was something that had never been accomplished before. There is a spell that I had only learned about that, in theory, could work,” Finstock began. Derek was surprised to find that Finstock was watching him. “Stiles came to me before we left Evenstar, expressing to me his plan for taking down Lenora. He explained how he and Derek had been bonded and that she had taken it away from them and instead, she linked herself to Stiles’ lifeforce. He reasoned, rightly so in fact, that if he died, so would she.” Derek squeezed Stiles’ hand as his heart rate picked up. He closed his eyes as he thought about Stiles’ lifeless body in his arms not hours before. “I knew, then, what she had done. You cannot remove a bond, but merely hide it. She linked herself to Stiles, but merely in a physical sense. The truest part of the bond that Stiles and Derek share is in the soul. She cannot and did not have any hold over Stiles’ soul.” Finstock smiled then. It made Derek shiver. Stiles’ thumb caressed Derek’s hand idly as he listened to Finstock’s words. 

“In theory, if the bond held while being suppressed by Lenora, Stiles would be brought back from the dead if his heart stopped, severing the physical bond between him and Lenora.” Derek couldn’t breathe as he listened as Finstock talked about the plan as if it was no big deal that Stiles had died. He was being nonchalant about it, and it made Derek shake with anger at his flippancy with Stiles’ life. Stiles turned his head, looking up at Derek with a frown. 

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, tugging on Derek’s hand. “I’m okay, I’m here.” 

“But what if it hadn’t worked?” Derek said loud enough so that everyone could hear. “What if you had really died?” Stiles gave Derek a sad smile, his lips barely lifted upwards. 

“Then Lenora would be dead, and you would be free.” Derek opened his mouth to respond to Stiles’ words but Finstock cut him off before he was able to. 

“Stiles was willing to take that gamble. He was willing to die for you, but I gave him a chance at survival. You gave him that chance. In all actuality, your love for him is what brought him back. The bond reignited within you as soon as his heart stopped,” Finstock said, his voice calm and soothing. 

“How did you do it, though? How did the spell work?” Greenberg asked. 

“Adara,” Finstock answered. “I used Adara. She is the living embodiment of his soul, after all. Stiles and I made sure that, during the fray, that she stayed out of harm’s way. With Deaton’s warning about Lenora touching her, we needed to make sure that that couldn’t happen. You see, Lenora knew that if she got her hands on Adara, that Stiles truly would die if he tried anything.” Again, Finstock smiled at his own cunningness. “With Adara hidden, I was able to cast the spell that would keep Stiles’ soul alive after his own heart stopped.” Derek looked down at Adara, who was nuzzling against him. Adara was Stiles’ soul, and she was the reason Stiles was still here. He didn’t know what he would do without either of them. 

“So with the bond and Adara, I was able to bring Stiles back,” Finstock said as if it was no big deal. To Derek this was the biggest deal, so much so that he couldn’t help but laugh at Finstock’s faux humility. 

“Amazing,” Chris Argent said from where he sat. “Remarkable.” 

“Exhausting,” Stiles called out. “Dying makes me tired.” Everyone laughed, well, everyone except for Derek. 

“With that, I think we call it a night,” Chris said. “We leave at dawn for Evenstar.” 

They all slept in the same room, not wanting to venture far into the depths of the estate. Derek held Stiles close, with his chest to Stiles’ back, his nose tucked into Stiles’ shoulder as Adara curled up against Stiles’ stomach. He had his hand over Stiles’, which lay on Adara. The three of them together again. Exhaustion took over Derek. For the first time since his capture, he got a full night’s sleep, dream free. 

The journey back to Evenstar was a short one. All they had to do was travel far enough that they were outside of Lenora’s wards, then Finstock transported them once more. Derek felt ill as they appeared near Evenstar. He never wanted to travel like that again. He almost broke out into a run when he saw the Inn. Everyone was waiting on the edge of town for them to arrive. 

“I can’t believe it,” the Sheriff said as he wrapped his arms around both Stiles and Derek. “You did it.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dad,” Stiles said into his father’s shoulder, his eyes catching Derek’s. 

“I am just happy to have you both back in my arms,” he admitted. Derek couldn’t agree more. It felt like hours before they were able to break away from tearful reunion hugs and kisses from everyone in the village, but eventually they made their way to their cabin hand in hand. Derek had Adara in one hand, holding her against his chest as he and Stiles walked with their fingers intertwined. He never wanted to let go of Stiles ever again. 

The cabin was dark and silent when they entered. It looked exactly the same, smelled exactly the same. It made Derek’s chest swell with pride. They were home and this wasn’t a dream. He dropped their things, unable to keep any distance at all between him and Stiles. He swept Stiles off of his feet, hoisting him into the air long enough so that Stiles could wrap his legs around Derek’s waist, his hands cupping Derek’s face fast enough so that when they kissed, it deepened immediately, making Derek moan as he breathed Stiles in. He couldn’t believe he had Stiles in his arms, that they were together once more and that they would never, _ever_ be apart again. 

“I love you,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.” His fingers were in Derek’s hair as he kissed along Derek’s jaw, his teeth catching Derek’s earlobe. 

“Never do anything like that again,” Derek rumbled as he took Stiles into their room, his hands on Stiles’ ass in order to keep him up. Stiles grunted as he hit the bed. Derek crawled on top of him, pushing Stiles onto his back. He hovered over Stiles for a moment, his eyes catching what Stiles was wearing. “Is this my shirt?” He asked. Stiles bit his lip as he attempted to hold back a smile. He nodded his head slowly as his hands moved over Derek’s body. Derek groaned as he rocked his hips against Stiles’, licking his lips. Stiles wore his sentimentality, he always had. Whether it was the hat and scarf his mother had made him when he was younger, to the ribbon Laura had given him, to Derek’s shirt. Stiles wore his heart on his sleeve, and Derek was included in that. 

Derek kissed him, dragging it out slowly as they both breathed in each other, tongues darting in and out of their mouths. Stiles grabbed hold of Derek’s shirt, shifting him so that he was the one on his back as Stiles straddled him. His hands splayed across Derek’s abdomen, snaking up his chest beneath his shirt, making it ride up. 

“I won’t do it again if you promise never to leave me,” Stiles said with a sly smile and a quirk of an eyebrow. Derek arched his back enough so that his shirt could be discarded, tossed across the room. Stiles’ shirt followed suit shortly after. Derek trailed his hands over Stiles’ torso, his eyes gazing over his markings, his curse, now with the added branding to go along with the scars of war. Derek made to sit up, to take Stiles’ nipple into his mouth, but Stiles stopped him with a hand on Derek’s shoulder, pushing him back down against the bed. 

“I need to taste you,” Stiles said with heavy-lidded eyes, lips parted. Derek let out a gasp as Stiles slid down ever so slightly, enough so that he could lick up Derek’s neck from his collarbone all the way to his chin. Derek groaned as Stiles did it again, a hand running over his chest. Stiles’ tongue made its way down his chest, taking his time to backtrack to Derek’s collarbone every few moments, marking him there. 

A hand tugged at the drawstrings of Derek’s pants as Stiles took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and teeth. Derek placed a hand to the back of Stiles’ neck as he moaned aloud. 

“Oh, god,” he hissed as Stiles’ hand slipped beneath the fabric of his pants, stroking him into full hardness as his mouth lavished his body with affection. Stiles whimpered against Derek’s skin, hot puffs of breath giving him goosebumps. 

“I hate seeing you bruised,” Stiles confessed as a hand slid over his ribs. Derek’s eyes shot open as he arched his back, his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck beckoned Stiles upwards to capture his lips in another kiss. 

“I’ll heal,” Derek said as he watched Stiles rid him of his pants, pushing them down his thighs then throwing them to the ground. Derek laid there, eyes barely open as he watched Stiles settle down between his legs, his eyes on Derek’s erection, a hand wrapped lazily around it, stroking him slowly as he licked his lips. Stiles looked up, then, locking eyes with Derek for a moment before licking at his head, teasing him. Derek’s hand went to Stiles’ hair, fingers interlocking with the strands. “Oh, god, yes,” Derek moaned as his toes spread at the sensation of Stiles’ mouth on him. With a smile, Stiles took Derek into his mouth fully. Stiles’ hand rubbed up and down Derek’s thigh as he made his own rhythm, his mouth sending Derek quickly to the edge. Derek tugged on Stiles’ hair bringing him away from Derek’s cock. Stiles gasped as he sucked in a deep breath, a trail of spit connecting his mouth with Derek’s head. It broke as Stiles stroked him. “I’m too close,” Derek managed to say. Stiles nodded in understanding as he licked his lips, coughing a bit from taking Derek deep. He licked up Derek’s shaft then at this head before scooting up Derek’s body, kissing him on the lips. Derek rolled Stiles over onto his back, kissing him lazily as his own hands roamed over Stiles’ body, pushing Stiles’ pants down his legs. 

It was his turn now. 

They kissed in short bursts, unable to stop for very long as they tangled their limbs together, hands never stopping as they touched each other. Stiles’ nails raked gently down Derek’s back as Derek gripped Stiles’ ass, slipping a finger between his cheeks. Stiles bucked his hips against Derek’s, unable to stop a litany of sounds from escaping his lips. 

“Please, oh god, I need you,” Stiles swore into Derek’s shoulder, his lips brushing against Derek’s skin. Derek maneuvered Stiles how he wanted him, head against the mattress, ass in the air as he spread Stiles’ ass cheeks wide. Stiles rolled his hips back once as he spread his legs wantonly. 

Derek wrapped a hand around Stiles’ leaking cock, jacking him a few times before licking up from his balls all the way to his lower back in one long sweep of his tongue. Stiles lurched forward as he grabbed hold of the sheets surrounding them, tugging them towards him as Derek licked him again and again, spreading him wide so that he could taste him fully. Stiles panted as he began moving his hips against Derek’s tongue, unable to stay still, wanting more. Derek entered him with his tongue, his nose burying into Stiles as he fucked him with his mouth. 

When Derek backed up enough to press his thumb against Stiles’ opening, Stiles screamed out in ecstasy, his hand reaching back to cover Derek’s as he felt Derek push inwards. With his mouth hanging open, Stiles turned his head so he could see Derek’s face. It made Derek’s cock twitch between his legs at the thought of having Stiles once more. He spit into Stiles’ hole, then pushed his index finger in slowly, taking his time as he opened Stiles up. Stiles met his every movement, his eyes closed and jaw hung open. Derek bent over, licking him once more, wetting him more so that he could insert another finger. Stiles opened up for him so beautifully, making Derek groan at the sight of it. He stroked Stiles until he felt a bead of precome spill from Stiles’ achingly hard cock, then spread it over his hole. Stiles squirmed beneath him, his legs spreading wider in a silent plea. 

Derek stroked himself over Stiles, rubbing his head against Stiles’ wet hole, pushing against it ever so slightly until he, too, spread precome over Stiles’ ass. With a grunt Derek pushed inward, reveling in the feel of being inside Stiles. He gripped Stiles’ hips as he began moving. Stiles let out a choked sob as he reached between his own legs, jacking himself off as Derek fucked into him. Derek leaned over licking up Stiles’ spine as he fucked him slow and hard, making Stiles inch up the bed with every thrust. 

“We’re together now,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles shuddered beneath him as he rolled his hips, pushing back against Derek. “I’m never leaving you again.” Stiles nodded as Derek shifted positions, laying both him and Stiles on their sides, their legs intertwining as he slipped inside of Stiles all the way to the hilt, then stilled. Stiles arched into Derek, his head digging back into Derek’s shoulder, mouth hung open in a silent gasp as they interlocked fingers. Stiles pulled Derek’s hand against his chest, then slid it upward until he had Derek’s knuckles in his mouth, biting down on them as Derek began to move once more, slow and deep. Stiles breathed in sharply with every movement as his other hand jacked himself off fast, unable to hold back. “Come for me, Stiles,” Derek urged him. Stiles’ entire body reacted, shivering as he let himself come onto his own hand and stomach. Derek spread his hand over Stiles’ mess, smearing it around as he picked up the pace of his own thrusts. Stiles went limp against him, fingers once more intertwining with his, making a bigger mess as Derek stilled within him, coming inside of him. 

He left a trail of kisses up Stiles’ shoulder and neck as he pulled out of him, a finger slipping between Stiles’ cheeks, pushing his come back inside as it oozed down his cheeks. Stiles whimpered, his eyes closed as he took one of Derek’s fingers into his mouth, tasting himself as Derek slipped two fingers inside of him, fucking into him. Stiles squirmed, releasing Derek’s finger in order to moan as he shook his head. 

“Too much,” he panted. “Too much.” Stiles rolled over so that he was facing Derek, his face debauched, lips swollen and red, eyes barely open from exhaustion and pleasure. Stiles buried his face against Derek’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around Derek’s torso as Adara jumped up onto the bed, fitting perfectly between their bodies. “I thought I’d never have you again.” 

“That doesn’t matter now,” Derek murmured as he relaxed against Stiles, his fingers trailing over Adara’s fur. “Because I am going nowhere.” 

**Epilogue  
two months later**

Stiles woke up from a dream to find that it was still dark outside. He sat up in bed, pushing the covers away from his body so that he could carefully climb out of the bed. The wind was howling against the window, urging him to follow it into the field. His feet padded quietly against the floor as he walked out of his and Derek’s room, leaving both Adara and Derek asleep in their bed. He grabbed a robe, throwing it on as he walked out into the cool, crisp autumn night. He could see his breath as he made his way towards the field. His stomach lurched at the distance between him and Adara, but it didn’t stop him. They had come a long way in working up their distance tolerance since Lenora’s death, and he knew he would be okay without her. 

The field was empty when he got to it, his arms wrapped around himself as the wind whirled around him. He waited there, but only silence greeted him. He didn’t know how long he stood there waiting, but he knew that it was long enough because he felt Derek’s presence behind him. Stiles turned his head to see Derek walking towards him, Adara by his side. The sky was slowly lightening, the threat of the sun approaching the horizon. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek as soon as he was close enough to do so. Derek’s hands landed on Stiles’ neck and lower back, rocking him from side to side, his lips pressed against Stiles’ forehead. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Derek asked. Stiles shook his head as he watched the grass in the field sway in the wind. 

“No,” Stiles admitted, his fingers tugging at Derek’s robe. Stiles tried to listen to the wind, but he heard nothing. He pushed enough away from Derek’s body so that he could look into his eyes. 

“No nightmare.”

Derek smiled at him, his shoulders relaxing. Stiles kissed him then. 

There were no more nightmares, no more Dreamwalkers, and Stiles no longer had need of his mother’s words of warning on the back of the wind because he was finally safe and whole. 

He finally had his sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to those of you who read this. you get all the kudos in the world for putting up with my angst. to those of you who commented/left feedback: i love you so much. this fic meant a lot to me, emotionally, and i am glad that it seemed to at least touch a few of you the way that it touched me.

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to: my betas [lsdme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lsdme/pseuds/lsdme), [ionsquare](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ionsquare/pseuds/ionsquare), and [mumblo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblo/pseuds/mumblo) for their encouragement. [RRRobin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RRRobin/profile) for the summary, and to [siny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/siny/pseuds/siny) for the lovely graphics that fit into this world so well. without them this wouldn't have been possible.


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